


Behind Closed Doors

by marsnmango



Category: South Park
Genre: AU, Craig Tucker Being An Asshole, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Foreshadowing, It's gonna be a wild ride, M/M, Research facility, Roommates, Slow Burn, They have powers, and the powers are real, and very inconvenient, creek - Freeform, shit gets intense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-08-29 18:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16749151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsnmango/pseuds/marsnmango
Summary: There are people in this world who are born with special 'abilities' that vary on the spectrum of totally useless to very, very dangerous. There is a facility designed specifically for the purpose of housing, stabilizing and rehabilitating these ability users who struggle to function in society on account of these powers.Tweek is one of many ability users who resides in this facility. And he's doing just fine.Until he meets his roommate.





	1. Chapter 1

The door slid open and Tweek found the cafeteria at its usual capacity; buzzing with what would be considered an otherwise lively congregation of youth if not for the circumstances. He shivered slightly at the crowd. It was no different from high school, and yet it seemed that the same amount of eyes watched his every step with scrutiny.

 

Of course, such wasn't the case and he was fully aware of that. That's what brought him here in the first place, after all.  
  
Patients bustled to and from tables, taking seats with trays in their hands and picking at their food while they chatted.

He found solace in the occupied table at the far end of the dining hall, immediately recognizing the collective faces of his friend and familiars. He joined them shortly, half-heartedly treating himself to a plate of food and taking a seat at the end of it with a sheepish greeting.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
“Hey, Tweek!” the first to warmly receive him was, per usual, the Clyde boy who always seemed to alternate between smiling and sobbing. “What’s shakin’?”  
  
“Uh, n-nothing?” he answered, wary at first that he’d been tricked. But Clyde seemed to make no mention of it and returned to the conversation he’d been happily partaking in before he arrived.  
  
In the meantime, someone else took a seat across from him. “T-Tweek. Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” he offered a brief wave and a tight smile, though it was as sincere as he could manage in spite of the internal panic. “How are you- How are you doing?”  
  
“Good… Go- **fuck!** Ah, I’m g-good. How are you?”  
  
“Oh...Ah…” Words were difficult to find. Possibly moreso for Tweek than anybody else at the table, who seemed to have no problem recollecting adventures and stories from the outside world. In particular, Tweek had just finished talking about the time he’d pranked his mother with deliberately leaving the toilet seat up as it apparently ‘drove her insane’.  
  
“Seriously? That’s hi-hilarious!” Jimmy praised. “I wish I could see the look on her f… face.”  
  
“She was _so_ pissed.” he laughed, “She even followed me to school that day!”  
  
“I remember that.” Token said “You cried like a baby.”  
  
“Did not!” he argued.  
Tweek watched them with a slight smile. He liked to think that these were the type of people he would willingly surround himself if he ever made it to high school, though unlikely as it was. But in some ways- this was better.  
  
“Oh.” Token began, “That reminds me, I heard that a new kid is coming today.”  
  
“A new k-kid, huh?” said Jimmy “I w… wonder who it is.”  
  
“I don’t know. But we could use another fr- Ah! Jimmy, what the hell?!” he scanned his tray several times over for the muffin that had been there a second ago. In a flash it had whisked itself away, miraculously, to Jimmy’s empty plate. “Seriously?”  
  
“F...F...Finders keepers, Token. Sorry.” he smiled as he took a triumphant bite of his keep.  
  
Though somewhat disgruntled, Token merely slumped his shoulders and picked at another part of his plate. The mashed potatoes had seemed more appetizing in the first place, he reasoned.  
  
“Timmy!” exclaimed the young man in the wheelchair who sat at the opposite end of the table.  
  
Then, with two fingers pressed to his temple- _Watch it, my friends. You shouldn’t get carried away._ _  
_ _  
_ “It’s not like any adults are watching us.” said Clyde.  
  
“Yeah.” added Token, “Besides, aren’t you using your powers right now, Timmy?”  
  
_That’s not what-_  
  
“Move aside fags.” Cartman, the heavyweight (no pun intended) champion of ruining decent meals took it upon himself to sit on Tweek’s side of the table. Naturally, this required some ‘scooting’ which more or less took the form of Cartman asserting his bodyweight until Tweek, Token and Jimmy were pushed towards the outermost edge of the bench.  
  
“Seriously, fatass?” Stan rolled his eyes as he took a seat across from him and politely slid across to leave room for two more of his pals.  
  
“Yeah, that’s fucking rude, dude.”  
  
“Nobody fuckin’ asked you Kyle!”  
  
“Oh, jesus…” Tweek felt his nerves on their ends. Somehow, he always ended up in the least desirable seat and it never ceased to stress him out. Which wouldn’t have been an issue on its own had it not been for the private dilemma he was dealing with under the table.  
  
That, of course, being the increasing increments of water swirling between his fingertips as he rigidly tapped the underside of the table. And as much as he wanted to stop, he’d learned better than to leave his ‘urges’ unattended. Lest they fester in the form of soggy food and overflowing drinks.  
  
“Tweek, are you- _shit!_ are you okay?”  
  
He looked up, suddenly and smiled at Thomas. “Yeah! Totally fine!”  
  
It was a lie and that much was apparent between the both of them. But as it was, neither of them were truly ‘fine’ at any given moment. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here. Likewise, neither would any of the peculiar acquaintances they’d come to know as their friends.  
  
“Then why are you shaking like a goddamn vibrator?” Cartman asked.  
  
“Ah! Seriously, am I?!” he looked down at himself, noting that his legs had in fact been shaking and consequently jostling the entire table. Again. “Oh man…”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Tweek.” Token patted his shoulder calmly. “I didn’t notice.”  
  
“Neither did I. Besides, at least you don’t smell like a fat racoon.”  
  
“Clyde, shut the fuck up!”  
  
Kyle and Stan seemed to get a good laugh of it, at least, but somehow Tweek felt that he wouldn’t be getting off that easily. Cartman was one hell of a grudge holder, and Tweek happened to make a perfectly docile punching bag.    
  
“Leave Tweek alone, dude.” said Stan, “You’re just jealous because his ability is way cooler.”  
  
“Oh _bullshit!_ ” Cartman rose from his seat and leaned forward in what seemed to be a form of intimidation. Or at the very least, it was an attempt. “Look at me, I’m fuckin’ Tweek and I can move water around and shit, I’m so fucking awesome guys!”  
  
“It’s better than being a human raccoon fatass!”  
  
“Nuh-uh, racoons are way cooler than whatever the fuck Tweek is!”  
  
“My-My power really isn’t all that great, guys! Ngh…” he couldn’t help the twitch in his eyes. The water pooled around his palm in a startlingly greater amount than what he had priorly been managing.  
  
“Don’t pay any attention to them, Tweek.” a gentler voice reassured. From the way Stan’s posture immediately straightened, it was safe to assume that the one who’d laid a hand on his shoulder was Wendy. He glanced back and sure enough, she was standing there with a smile.  
  
“Oh not this shit again… Stan, what did we tell you about bringing your girlfriend over here?!” Cartman griped.  
  
But rather than pay his complaints any mind, Stan simply scooted over and gave Wendy ample space to be seated, to which she happily obliged. She, too, had a tray, although it was mostly eaten by then.  
  
“Goddamnit…”  
  
“Hey, Wendy.” Token greeted her politely, and Clyde followed suit with a mouthful of fries.  
  
“Hey guys. What’s up?”  
  
“Oh, y’know. Usual.”  
  
“Jesus christ, so fuckin’ nosy. Don’t you have some lip gloss you’ve gotta put on or something?”  
  
The sound of something short-circuiting caught their attention, then steam emitted from Cartman’s pocket. “Ay!” he yanked his phone out and bashed it repeatedly, desperate for some kind of signal. But alas, the phone only reflected the desperation in his eyes through its black screen. “Damnit, you bitch!”  
  
“Quit calling my girlfriend a bitch, fatass!”  
  
While the two bickered, she attended to her meal. Though a voice rang through her head in the meantime.  
  
_Wendylyn. I strongly advise against using your abilities that way. It’s all fun and games now, but it could cause trouble down the line if you’re not careful._ _  
_ _  
_ She smiled in Timmy’s direction, “You’re right. I’ll be careful.”  
  
“Timmy!”  
  
He didn’t seem interested in commenting further, either because he was satisfied or because that’s what she’d said the last seven times and knew better at this point than to pursue it.  
  
“Oh, the new kid’s here, by the way. They’re probably filling out the paperwork right about now.”  
  
“Oh yeah.” Stan mused, biting into his food and chasing it with an impatient swallow. “How do you know that?”  
  
“The director’s phone went off about an hour ago, and then the receptionist got a phone call from the director. When that happens, it usually means they’re getting ready for another one.”  
  
“That reminds me.” she continued, “Stan, your exit date is coming up pretty soon, isn’t it?”  
  
“Uh…” he chewed on his lip for a second. Then, “Yeah, I think so… Why?”  
  
“I was just cross checking the database to figure out which one of us is gonna be leaving first. So far, I’m pretty sure it’s Token.”  
  
“Me?” he asked “Are you sure?”  
  
“Says you’re scheduled to go in a few months… Besides, out of all of us, who _else_ would it be?”  
  
“Uh…” he considered it. “You’re pretty normal. When are _you_ getting out of here?”  
  
“Yeah.” Stan asked, with a mild twinge of concern in his voice. “You’re not leaving yet, right?”  
  
“No, no.” she laughed “Not to worry guys. I’m here for another year or so. It’s still open-ended for now, but they haven’t hinted towards anything yet.”  
  
“Hey.” Clyde said “What’s the _first_ thing you guys are gonna do when you get out of here?”  
  
“I’m getting the hell away from Kyle!”  
  
“I’m filing for a restraining order against Cartman.”  
  
Naturally, the two shared an agitated glance at the coincidental timing in which they shared their ‘plans’.  
  
“Good question…” Wendy leaned back in her seat and pressed her fingers to her chin in thought. “Well, I definitely want to go to a college. And maybe become a lawyer… No, the tech field? Or president. Y’know, I’m not really sure..”  
  
“Ambitious..” Token commented, with a vague degree of envy. “I’m going to start a business. I wanna help out amputees.”  
  
“That’s so fucking lame dude.” Cartman rolled his eyes and helped himself to his second serving of soda. A poignant burp followed as he laid out his master plan.  
  
“I think I’m just gonna take over my dad’s tool shop.” Stan shrugged, laying his spoon down.  
  
“Really? That’s….” Kyle hesitated. “Predictable.”  
  
“Well--” he indignantly huffed, “What else am I supposed to do?! I hate school and there’s no way I’m selling my ass like Cartman’s mom, so handyman it is.”  
  
“Ay!”  
  
“What about you, Tweek?” Wendy asked.  
  
He looked over at Thomas with panic suddenly swelling in his chest and threatening to poor out in the form of a misplaced flood. But he kept the tides ebbed to the best of his ability and breathed a sigh. “I… I don’t know… C-Coffee…? I like… uh… coffee.”  
  
“Really?” Token raised his eyebrow and noted (sarcastically), “I never would have guessed."  
  
"Ah, why? They didn’t- move up my exit, did they?!”  
  
“No, no! We’re just curious, Tweek, What kind of stuff did you _do_ at home anyway?”  
  
Several eyes were on him, he realized, and it was enough to cause some profuse internal sweating. Thomas seemed to catch onto this and offered a semblance of relief, at least. “Ah, I… **fuck,** I want to… go to therapy.”  
  
“Th-Therapy?” Jimmy asked “I-Isn’t what we’re doing now kind of l-like therapy…?”  
  
“Not… really, shit! Agh… Sorry…”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.” Token assured.  
  
Tweek couldn’t help the guilt settling into his stomach as he realized he’d forced Thomas to come to his rescue, again. It was senseless that he was unable to answer such a simple question, and yet- when it came to the thought of the real world… of having to potentially deal with groups of people that were larger, and potentially even _louder_ than the ones he was currently used to--  
  
Well, needless to say, the floor was wet. Cartman slipped rising out of his seat. “Ah- God damnit, Tweek! You fucking asshole, you did that on purpose!”  
  
“H-huh?!” he sat up, quickly realizing that a fair amount of liquid was streaming from his palms and haphazardly spilling out unto the floor. With haste, he attempted to quell it. “Ah! Sorry! I-I’ll make it stop!”  
  
“Hurry Tweek, my shoes!” Wendy exclaimed, leaping out of her seat.  
  
“O-Okay!” Tweek concentrated to the best of his ability, trying desperately to not let the increasing number of faces, the attention, the noise, the _pressure_ make things anymore difficult than they already were. “Aghh….”  
  
Needless to say, he was struggling.  
  
“Oh boy.” Token sighed.  
  
“Here we go again…” said Kyle.  
  
It was at times like this that he prayed to have an ability like Wendy’s-- one that was at _his_ beck and call. Or the ability to speak with his mind. Literally anything else would have been nice but in this situation, he felt like such a _loser._ The outcast of outcasts. “Sorry, I’m so sorry!”  
  
“Tweek, ah... **shit, fuck!** It’s fine!”  
  
“I-I’ll make it stop. Please stop it!” he commanded. The water seemed to shake a bit, as if nearly receptive, but ultimately did not budge until he took a step back and plugged his ears. Concentrate. _Concentrate._  
  
_“Attention.”_ A monotonous, vaguely feminine voice declared over the intercom “ _Ward C, please dispose of your lunches and return to your rooms. I repeat: Ward C; Lunch has now concluded, please return to your rooms.”_ _  
_ _  
_ He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that fell from his lips as the prospect of having some alone time settled in. In accordance to his demeanor, whomever was responsible for organizing the hospital saw it fit that Tweek abstain from having a roommate for a while. The water dissolved into a thin layer of mist that eventually waned, and Wendy was spared from having to replace her shoes.  
  
Clyde nudged his shoulder as he passed. “See ya later, Tweek.”  
  
“Yeah,” Token followed suit “Try not to flood out your room, okay? We do _not_ need a repeat of what happened last time.”  
  
“Y-yeah… See ya!” he waved, dipping the remaining scraps of food on his tray into the nearest compost bin. As another acquaintance passed by, he mustered the energy to say “Later, Thomas!”  
  
“La… Later.” he reciprocated.  
  
The return to his appropriate hall was uneventful and people were still filing into their rooms. Though there was a significantly fewer amount of traffic on his side of the hall as he happened to be placed into an area reserved for those of whom were less ‘successful’ around too much commotion.  
  
Naturally, it was one of his favorite aspects of living here. Free food and wardrobe aside.  
  
Although- “Goddamnit Tweek, would you cut it out already?!”  
  
There were some things that could use some improvement. Namely, Cartman’s attitude.  
  
“S-Sorry dude… I’m really n-not doing it on purpose!” he explained. A puddle of water followed his footsteps as he walked, as if he were soaked from the rain or freshly bathed.  
  
“Well get a hold of yourself. The last kid that couldn’t get his shit together had to spend two weeks suspended from the roof. Is that really what you want?”  
  
“Agh, no! That’s n-not really a thing, is it?!” he bit the tips of his nails, unwittingly encouraging the amount of water pooling at his feet.  
  
“Dude.” A secondary voice rang out from behind. “What’s wrong with you.”  
  
He turned around, suddenly, half-convinced that the inconspicuous army of ninjas that the hospital employed (which _totally_ was not a figment of his imagination) had finally come to collect him. “Ah!”  
  
An unexpectedly large amount of water suddenly met the young man’s face with a splash. And from his perspective, through dripping wet bangs and a not-at-all amused expression, things weren’t looking good for Tweek. Considering he’d instinctively held his hands out defensively and whatnot.  
  
“... _Seriously?_ ” he stepped forward with an eerie calm, invoking a terrified squeak as he grabbed Tweek’s collar and yanked him. “Seriously! What the hell is your problem!?”  
  
“Ohh, come quick everybody, Tweek and the new kid are about to fight!” Cartman shouted.  
  
There weren’t a great many people traversing that hall, but those who were happened to take interest and gather around in a curious circle.  
  
“It… It was an accident!” he insisted. He wasn’t exactly in the best position to frame it that way, though.  
  
Nor did the ‘new kid’ seem interested in entertaining the thought. “Uh-huh. Then this is an accident, too.” he reeled his fist back and the spectators shared their collective enthusiasm, in spite of Tweek’s persistent efforts to pull away.  
  
_“Mmf!”_  
  
A puff of black smoke filled the air and briefly agitated several lungs. Tweek felt immediately that his grip had relinquished and caught himself before he hit the ground. Though relieved, he was immediately perplexed- but not more so than the new kid, who seemed less than pleased at the interruption. “What the fuck?!”  
  
A kid about their age stood between them in the wake of the dissipating mist, his fists at his sides protectively. “ _Mph, mm!”_ _  
_ _  
_ “What the _hell_ are you saying.”  
  
The boy straightened up, tossing his hood off of a wild blond mess. “I _said_ , leave him alone!”  
  
“Ah damnit Kenny, you always ruin everything!” Cartman gave him a thumbs down and encouraged others in the crowd to do the same, although they were quick to lose interest and move along.  
  
“Look, I’m not the one that started this shit, okay?! _He_ threw water in my goddamn face!”  
  
“It was an accident…” Tweek began, though the look of irritation the boy tossed him told him that an explanation at this point in time was probably futile.  
  
“I _doubt_ he was trying to pick a fight with you.” Kenny reasoned, “Besides- Right now, you’re just giving the fatass what he wants. _Don’t_ let him play you guys like this.”  
  
He stared at Kenny with a frown, clenching and unclenching his fists with evident consideration. Regardless of what his decision was, Kenny seemed to ready himself for whatever conclusion the new kid would come to.  
  
Although, the boy merely seemed to straighten himself out, turn aside and slip his hands into his pockets with a customary middle finger to the both of them. “Whatever.”  
  
“Fine, Kenny, be a fag! You’re so poor you can’t afford television so you throw paint on walls to watch it dry!” Cartman turned away and headed off in the opposite direction.  
  
Kenny dignified the remark with little more than a disinterested eye roll. “Anyway, I’ve gotta get back.”  
  
The female voice returned to the intercom- _“Residents of Ward C, please return to your rooms. Check ins will occur in approximately five minutes.”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Later, Tweek.” he knelt to the ground and Tweek bidded him a quick farewell as he disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.  
  
He and the new kid remained dumbly in the hall and for a moment, Tweek was overcome with a vague sensation of… confidence? Encouragement?  
  
“S-Sorry about that… It really was a misun-”  
  
“ _Don’t_ talk to me.” he snapped. With that, he turned away and headed off.  
  
Tweek was left in the dust of his efforts and couldn’t help the disappointment crawling into his skin. But alas, it couldn’t be helped. It was that kind of attitude that he’d gotten used to the most, after all, although he found that it was much more prevalent in the outside world than it had ever been in here. In a way, it was almost refreshing.  
  
A splash of bittersweet reality in the institution he’d come to know as a home.  
  
With a sigh, he turned away and found his room.  
  
“Mmkay,” said the counselor, straightening a stack of papers in his hands. “Tweek, I know it’s been about a week since we last checked in, but anything you’d like to tell me? Anything new?”  
  
“No.” he said. It wasn’t entirely true, there was that ordeal with that jackass down by his ward but it wasn’t the first time a new guy had copped an attitude. It probably wouldn’t be the last, either. This place wasn’t exactly a dream come true to some people.  
  
“Mm...Kay.” he jotted something down on his notebook. Tweek assumed it was contradictory- or at least, that’s what the furrow in his brows implied. That instead of recording his words he was instead dictating that Tweek had gotten significantly worse, that there was no hope for him and he was just going to have to be sold off to the circus as his parents suggested. They were ‘joking’, sure, but every joke is fostered by a tidbit of truth. And he didn’t trust that truth.  
  
“Tweek.” he snapped his fingers, drawing his head up in surprise.  
  
“H-Huh?”  
  
“I asked you about your medication. Do you feel like it’s _working,_ at all? You’re not having any more delusions are you? No more gnomes?”  
  
“Gn...Gnomes.” he blinked, but quickly realized that was a mistake. Because they were there, they were always there in the corner of his eye, in the corner of his mind. The fucked up part is that he _knew_ they weren’t there and _they_ knew it too and yet--  
  
“F-Fine!” he gripped the edges of his seat tightly. Mr. Mackey made a note of that as well.  
  
“Uh-huh… Right.” he flipped a page of the documents he was holding and skimmed over it.  
“Anyways, it says here that your abilities have gotten less stable over time. Why do you think that is?”  
  
“How should I know?!”  
  
“Well, okay… Okay. I understand.” he added several lines to his notes, but his hand must have tired because he eventually shook out his wrist and rested the pen against the pad. “Well, we’ll touch more on that later. But for now, I’ll just fill you in on what’s going on with your family back at home.”  
  
Tweek suppressed a groan. As much as he loved his parents, the messages they would send him were never exactly reassuring. Always just… ‘can’t wait to have you back, Tweek’ or ‘The coffee isn’t going to grind itself’ and it only served to remind him that he was a human coffee pot in a teenager’s body.  
  
“Now, your mother says she hopes you’re doing well, and that she’s working on a different blend for the shop. Business is going smoothly, but since you’re here they’ve been paying out of pocket to hire some of the local high school kids to fill your shoes.”  
  
He cringed. Those poor, poor bastards.  
  
“And your father says he misses ‘ya and that he’ll see ya real soon. And then he mentioned something about how the… how the new brew your mother was talking about, tastes like a morning meadow covered in… what was it? Dandies? Daisies? Well…”  
  
Tweek had zoned out at that point, but in summary, the house had yet to burn down at home and their coffee was thriving. Business as usual, quite literally, except that they aren’t entitled to free labor anymore on account of some very inconvenient laws (something about minimum wage and reasonable hours). They couldn’t wait to have him back, hoped that he couldn’t wait to _be_ back and Tweek just hoped that he would minimize the chunks he’d inevitably pull out of his hair that night.  
  
“...So Tweek.” Mr. Mackey continued once he’d finished relaying the thrilling news, “You’ve got… let’s see, here. A year left before you’re discharged. How does that make you feel?”  
  
“Scared!”  
  
“Mmkay. And why is that, Tweek?”  
  
“I… I don’t want to go back.” he admit. It was something he wouldn’t dare say in front of his friends, who only ever seemed to grow increasingly more excited at the prospect of their exit dates nearing. Every second, hour, day growing closer to freedom seemed to fill their hearts with joy. It almost pained Tweek that he was incapable of feeling the same way.  
  
But honestly, was it all that surprising?  
  
“There was this… this guy. In the halls. He, he wanted to fight me!”  
  
Mackey’s eyes widened slightly, though he made no comment.  
  
“I… It was an accident. He scared me and, and I got water on him. I… I splashed him, okay?! But I didn’t mean to!”  
  
“Uh-huh.” Mackey folded his hands in his lap. “Go on.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to, I just… The way he-- The way he talked to me. Why do they _act_ like that, man?! What did I do to deserve this? I tried to apologize and he just- he just ignored me! Agh! Why do they all do that!”  
  
“Do people ignore you often, Tweek?”  
  
“Not often enough!” he complained “I just.. I just wanna be left alone. But people like that… that _jerk,_ they’re _everywhere_ out there. I don’t understand why everybody’s so excited to go back to that. A-And I have this stupid power! It’s so annoying!”  
  
“Tweek, you’re… doing it again.” Mackey pointed out politely.  
  
Tweek’s head jerked up and he glanced behind him. A large orb of water had accumulated behind him, wavering and bobbing with every sharp jerk. Naturally, this caused him to slouch back and groan; the water evaporating into mist. “See…?”  
  
“Well Tweek, it’s true that there are people out there who are going to want to start fights. Sometimes, they do it for no good reason- Just look at Cartman.” he explained. “But that doesn’t mean you should be ashamed to be yourself, or feel like you don’t have the right to be there… You see, the goal here isn’t just to stabilize your powers, Tweek. We also want to make sure you kids feel welcomed and prepared when you get back out there.”  
  
As much as he understood what Mr. Mackey was trying to say, he couldn’t help but pay close attention to his feet and his half-done laces. “Ugh…”  
  
“That reminds me.” he said, “Some of the specialists and I have been discussing things lately and… Well, we’ve decided that you’re ready. To have a roommate.”  
  
“Huh?” his head snapped up “A roommate?! Are you out of your mind, how am I supposed to-”  
  
“Easy Tweek. I know, it sounds scary. You’ve never done it before, and you have no idea what to expect.” Yes, that is exactly what Tweek was worried about, among other things, and somehow hearing it outloud made it a million times worse. “But trust me, this will be good for you… It’s part of becoming an adult. And the sooner you take these steps, the sooner you’ll be able to go home and kiss this place goodbye forever.”  
  
His heart was jackhammering the hell out of his chest. It wasn’t pleasant. “But I don’t want a roommate!”  
  
“See, now, you’ve got to have an open mind, Tweek… If you go into something ready for whatever life decides to throw at you, you can’t go wrong.” he pressed his papers against the desk and shut his notebook. “Besides, we’ve already moved him into your room so, uh… You really don’t have much of a choice here.”  
  
“There’s no way.” he tugged at the strands of hair by his ears, causing Mackey to slowly raise himself from the desk with mild concern. “I’ll die. I’ll die. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he’s weird? What if his ability is even worse than mine and we accidentally die or what if I--”  
  
“Tweek, Tweek!” Mr. Mackey grabbed his shoulders and rattled him lightly. “Calm down… Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll come with you. I’ll help ya get settled in and you two can take it from there, mmkay?”  
  
Though his heart raced, he managed several uneven breaths and gasps before he managed to calm down…  
  
Slightly. “O-Okay…”  
  
The walk to his appropriate ward was uneventful and smooth, though the tremors in Tweek’s body didn’t seem to get the message. The twitching only increased as they drew nearer down his familiar halls, which were usually quite a comfort to behold. But now, he could only worry about what awaited him on the other side, as well as what bystanders would think about the viscous amount of water he was tracking all over the ground. God, that was going to be a bitch to mop.  
  
Mr. Mackey tried to make conversation, provide little bits of nonsensical information to distract Tweek from the haze in his own head but alas, when Tweek was consumed in these… episodes, there was very little anyone could do to pull him out of it. Such was the nature of Tweek Tweak, the professional spastic.  
  
“Oh… Look here, Tweek.” he said, gently nudging Tweek’s shoulder.  
  
Tweek hesitated to look up, wary that it was just another misshapen bug or something… But his eyes actually widened slightly when he did, because the face he found was actually familiar.  
  
“Tweek. Counselor Mackey. Good to see you both.” The man greeted, extending his hand out warmly.  
  
Mr. Mackey shook it and as much as Tweek knew it would have been appropriate to return the gesture, he looked away sheepishly.  
  
“Dare I say it… Is that my little rainmaker? My, your power gets more and more enticing every time I see it.” he mused.  
  
Tweek couldn’t help the flutter of joy that filled his heart. Maybe it was what he said to every student, but he couldn’t help it- he never got tired of hearing that. “Hello Sir…”  
  
“You know better than that.” he chided lightly, “Just call me Mr. Conner.”  
  
“Oh...Okay…”  
  
The man smiled. He was relatively young, considering the massive status he’d achieved thus far. As the director of a privately owned hospital, paid for and funded by his own wealth and a handful of donors, one might think he was well into his forties. But on the contrary, he looked quite young and although he’d never formally confirmed it, there was much speculation that he was actually still in his thirties.  
  
Mr. Conner extended his hand outwards and Tweek subconsciously readied himself for the hand that brushed against his hair and smoothed it. “While I’m here, would you show me that trick of yours again?”  
  
“Ah…” he hesitated, glancing back and forth briefly to assure that he wasn’t being watched.  
  
He held his palms out and took a deep breath, shutting his eyes as he concentrated all of his energy into his display.  
  
The water collected into his palms, balled itself into an orb and fluctuated to live. It eventually broke apart into separate figures, until two aquatic dolphins danced around his fingers.  
  
“There it is.” Conner mused, watching it with a slight smile. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you your power isn’t beautiful, Tweek. If it brings this much happiness into my life, I can only hope that it’ll one day do the same for you.”  
  
With that, he rested a hand on his shoulder and gave him an assured smile. Tweek returned it, though it was forced and probably not as appealing in comparison.  
  
“M-Mr. Conner…” he began with a nervous gulp. “Is it true? I’m getting a roommate? But…”  
  
“Ah, that.” he straightened up and folded his hands behind his back. “It’s true that we decided it was about time for you to advance towards the second phase of your program. But fear not-- your roommate may come off a bit rough around the edges, but I encourage you to give him a chance.”  
  
“But--”  
  
“Life is full of inconveniences, Tweek.” he shook his head sympathetically, “Even in a place like this. But trust that we’re doing it for your own good… And, who knows. You might even become friends one day.”  
  
That was the best case scenario, but Tweek knew better than to get his hopes up.  
  
In fact he wouldn’t be surprised if his roommate was a carbon-copy of Cartman.  
  
“I...I guess.”  
  
“Anyhow, I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Conner said “I’ll be dropping by for a while, so feel free to say hello if you see me around. And Mr. Mackey.”  
  
“Y-Yes sir?”  
  
“Keep up the good work.” he smiled.    
  
“You… You too, Sir.” he gave him a brief and somewhat clumsy salute, before realizing that Mr. Conner had already gone off elsewhere. With a sigh of relief, he urged Tweek forward and led him around the corner, further down the hall until they arrived in front of one of several metal doors amid the hall of a dozen similar ones.  
  
“Now remember.” he said, pressing his hand on Tweek’s shoulder lightly “If you get overwhelmed, just go to your happy place. And don’t forget to take your medication. Mmkay?”  
  
“Okay…” he said.  
  
“Here, let me see your wrist.”  
  
Tweek gave him his wrist and Mackey aligned the band around it to the scanner attached to the door. It scrutinized the details for a second before rendering its code and validating his identity with a green, affirmative beep. The door slid open.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he headed inside. Mr. Mackey followed him.  
  
A young, tall man in a blue chullo and an eerily familiar frown stood on the opposite side of the room, sitting on what was once an unused and forgotten bed.  
  
“Craig. This here is Tweek. For the next year or so, he’ll be your roommate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the (t)week: Zero - Imagine Dragons


	2. Chapter 2

“No way! Let me go, I can’t be his roommate, I just can’t!” Tweek insisted, thrashing incessantly against Mr. Mackey’s concerned grip.    
  
“Now hold on just a minute Tweek. Remember what we discussed. Getting along with people you wouldn’t normally get along with is an essential part of your-”    
  
“Agh!”    
  
“I’m not putting up with this shit for the next two years.” said Craig, who made himself at home on his bed while the room puddled up around him.    
  
“And Craig, I have had just about enough of your attitude. Sometimes we don’t always get to pick and choose what we have to deal with and by gosh you’re just gonna have to make peace with tha- Hey, did you just flip me the bird?!”    
  
“He’s gonna kill me in my sleep!”    
  
“Not unless you kill yourself first, you psychopath!”    
  
First impressions were often considered a vital denotation of how any and all future interactions with said person would occur down the road. If such was the case, Mr. Mackey was worried that he had his work cut out for him-- and that one or both of the children would drive one another insane by the year’s end.    
  
Actually, should all go according to plan, they were set to be roommates for the following year or so until one or the other graduated. And seeing as there was no definitive exit date set quite yet for either of them given their… unpredictable, behavior--   
  
Well, it should be a miracle if they haven’t killed each other by the end of the week, let alone a year.    
  
“Oh god… This is too much. I can’t do this. This guy is  _ insane,  _ Mr. Mackey, I can’t! There’s no way, this is way too much pressure!” he gripped Mackey’s arm and looked upon him pleadingly.    
  
Craig folded his arms and eyed the water warily as it began to rise around his bed frame. “ _ I’m  _ the insane one? He’s trying to drown me!”    
  
“I am not!”    
  
“You are  _ too  _ you little freak!”    
  
“Alright, alright! That’s enough!” Mr. Mackey stomped his foot and inadvertently soaked his pants with the splatter. “Tweek, Craig- I didn’t want to do this. But you two leave me no choice… I’m going to sing for you a little song.”    
  
“A song?! I don’t need a song, I need to get out! I want out!”    
  
“Seriously?”   
  
“Ahem.” The counselor cleared his throat and mentally prepared himself for energy he was going to expel. With a deep breath, he began to sing.    
  
“ _ Fall is here, hear the yell. Back to school, ring the bell. Brand new shoes, walking blues. Climb the fence, books and pens…. I can tell that we are gonna be friends.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ The look Craig and Tweek gave him was mutually apprehensive, as if Mackey’s head had embellished to the size of a balloon and was prepared to lift off his shoulders and float right out of his room. Interesting as that may have been, it was no less perplexing than the ambient waves that overcame them. A sudden calm overwhelming their bodies, muscles and thoughts growing increasingly more relaxed with every melodious tune.    
  
Mackey wasn’t the type of person that anyone would have pegged to have a beautiful voice. In fact, they weren’t completely convinced that  _ he  _ was the one singing. But he was certainly perpetuating some kind of enchantment with his song.    
  
“ _ I can tell that we are gonna be friends.”  _   
  
Tweek’s grip on his sleeve loosened until he’d all but forgotten what the commotion was about in the first place, the water dissipating accordingly into a misty fog. Likewise, Craig laid back on his bed until it looked as though he’d found solace in sleep, but at the most he was merely relaxing with his arms behind his head.    
  
“There… See, now doesn’t that feel better? You both just needed a second to relax and come to terms with a few things. Do that whenever you’re feeling stressed and soon enough, you’ll be best buds! Now if you’ll excuse me fellas,” he explained “I’m late to my next appointment…”    
  
“You mean you’re just going to leave me here?!”    
  
“Try to make the most of it, Tweek.” Mackey bid him a rushed farewell. “You know where to find me if things get out of hand.”    
  
The door slid shut and beeped as it securely locked itself behind him, leaving a dumbstruck Tweek in his dust. As he pondered (perhaps a bit too intently) what had just happened, he suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that he was not the only person in this room.    
  
“This fucking  _ sucks _ .” Craig complained.    
  
The eyes in his felt sent an unpleasant sensation down his spines, like a million ants were tunneling deep into his vertebra. “You’re telling me! I, I’m not supposed to have a roommate man. It’s not fair nobody else in this wing has a roommate, why is this happening to me?!”    
  
“Look, would you stop freaking out?” he sat up and looked less than amused as Tweek nervously nibbled on his fingertips. “I’m not going to mess with you as long as you don’t fuck with me. Got it?”    
  
“Th-That’s what everyone says but you’re just like Cartman!”   
  
“You mean that fatass? Dude… That’s fucking harsh.”    
  
Tweek paced around the floor in circles as a myriad of concerns swirled up in his brain. “Why else would you try to fight me?!”   
  
“Look, that’s not the point.” Craig rose from his seat and approached Tweek, as if the poor kid weren’t nervous enough as it was. “You just- The point is- Would you quit it?!” he commanded.    
  
Tweek stopped, suddenly. He was punished with an immediate dizzy spell but powered through it as he tried to determine which Craig was talking to him.    
  
“As long as you mind your own business, I’ll fuck off. Deal?”    
  
He extended his hand. Tweek stared at it and instinctively shied away. But… At the very least, this guy seemed more sincere than Cartman-- to an extent. In the sense that he was less concerned about whether or not shaking his hand would be met with an unsavory liquid of some sort (that was a rough day).    
  
“O-Okay… Deal..” Though somewhat hesitant, he took his hand and gave it a timid shake. Then just as quickly let it go and made way for his own side of the bed as if he would be safe there.    
  
Craig sighed… Loudly. He headed back to his side of the dorm and added, “Some ground rules. Don’t touch my shit, don’t  _ look  _ at my shit and don’t bug me.”    
  
Tweek nodded. Simple enough, so long as the favor was returned.    
  
“Oh, and another thing.” he turned back, slipped his hands into his pockets and sent the kid an accusatory glare. “Don’t pull that shit with the waterworks again. If I get soaked or drowned for whatever fucking reason, I’ll kick your ass.”    
  
“Got it.. But, uh..” he cautiously worked out how he would explain the little… defects, in his powers. But the impatient furrow in his brows told him that he ought to either make it quick or hold his peace unless he wants to risk causing him to recant the bargain.    
  
“Nevermind. Nothing. Goodnight!” Tweek rolled into bed and buried his head in his sheets.    
  


Craig glanced at the window, noting idly that it was approximately… two, two thirty in the afternoon? Possibly later? Though he supposed that a midday nap was one of the most normal things he’d seen his ‘roommate’ do so far…    
  
As such, he’d no objections and simply went back to antagonizing the wall with his bored gaze.    
  
-   
  
“So anyway, the new kid was like, ‘get outta my way fatass!’ and I told him to suck my balls. He got so mad you guys. It was sweet.”    
  
“ _ Mmph! _ ”    
  
“Oh fuck you Kenny, that is so what happened!” Cartman argued, aggressively stuffing his face full of waffles.    
  
“Bullshit, we all know the new kid would’ve kicked your ass.” Stan said. Kyle nodded in agreement and the others conceded, spurning some indignant rage.    
  
“Fuck you guys! I’ll take the new kid right now and prove it to you!”    
  
“Go ahead, fatass! He’ll wipe the floor with you!”    
  
“Fuck you Kyle!”    
  
“Guys, guys!” Token raised his voice “We shouldn’t try to fight the new kid, okay? It’s probably scary enough as it is. Remember when  _ you  _ were the new kid? Would you want some asshole picking a fight with you?”    
  
The kids around the table exchanged reminiscent glances. Clyde was the first to retort, “But… some asshole  _ did  _ pick a fight with me.”    
  
“Me t-too.” seconded Jimmy. “In f...f...fact, I believe it was C-Cartman.”    
  
“Yeah.” Wendy sipped her orange juice “Cartman picked a fight with me, too, come to think of it..”   
  
“I kicked his ass  _ twice. _ ” remarked Kyle.    
  
The conversation suddenly turned to a discussion about whom all had fought Cartman, why and the extent of how victorious they were.    
  
In summary: the prospects of Cartman emerging victorious from the fight that he would inevitably pick with the new kid was…. Well, unlikely.    
  
Not that it mattered to Cartman. “Look guys, here he comes!”    
  
Tweek looked up from his food. Craig had a tray in his hands and he was scanning the surrounding area for an available seat. Most tables were occupied with established groups by then but given that Thomas wasn’t present, they happened to have an available seat. The urge to call out to him nearly escaped his impulse until he realized, very quickly, that minding his own business was the key to not getting his ass beat.    
  
Furthermore, as polite as he would have  _ liked  _ to be, considering the fact that he was new and all, Craig wasn’t exactly… pleasant, to be around. That dark and brooding demeanor of his that he’d initially perceived as an egotistical facade actually turned out to just be his personality. Give no fucks and take no shit. That’s the type of person he pegged Craig to be.    
  
“Seriously, Cartman, don’t.” Token rolled his eyes.    
  
However, Cartman was already out of his seat by then and they knew well enough that he was beyond the point of reasoning. Though it would make for an entertaining display, at the least.    
  
“Hey!” he jeered as soon as Craig walked by “So, how’s that stick in your ass? Does it feel good?”    
  
Tweek slammed his head into the tabletop. Wendy looked upon him with concerned, but returned her attention to the impending catastrophe when she determined that he was more or less fine.    
  
“Fuck off.” Craig said, and moved past him. Or at least he’d intended to until he was impeded by Cartman’s oversized person blocking his path around the table.    
  
“Nuh-uh you’re in my territory now, douchebag. You wanna sit in  _ my  _ dining hall? You gotta get through me.”    
  
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he narrowed his eyes. Perfect- his roommate was insane and now lardass was picking a fight with him. Fantastic.    
  
“C’mon dude, think you’re tough? Huh? Think you’re all bad? Fight me right now!” Cartman poised his arms out in front of him in a show of bravado, evidently quite confident that he wasn’t going to get his teeth knocked out.    
  
“You  _ really  _ wanna do this shit?” Craig clenched his fists. “Fine. Bring it on.”    
  
“I will!” he said. “Butters ain’t scared of you! Right Butters?!”    
  
“Oh, uh… Well gosh Eric, I don’t really wanna fight nobody. And I’m kind of in the middle of eating my-” before the remainder of his protest could escape his poor, insolent lips, Cartman smacked him in the head. His eyes dilated and his smile shifted into something that was slightly more… unsettling. “Heh.”    
  
“Professor Chaos isn’t afraid of you! I will help you vanquish this foe!”    
  
“Oh jesus.” Stan sighed.    
  
“Now he’s done it…” complained Wendy.    
  
“Just  _ one. _ ” Token mourned. “Can we just have  _ one  _ meal where Cartman doesn’t do this shit?”    
  
In spite of the fun they were having, the intercom just so happened to dutifully interrupt them with a prompt command.    
  
_ “Tweek Tweak, please report to the examination room.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ He flinched as a dozen of eyes were on him-- though, thankfully (or not) their attentions were gripped by the ensuing chaos. Regardless, he stepped away from the table and trashed the remnants of his meal, of which he’d yet to extinguish his bad habit of picking at his plate as opposed to really eating it.    
  
“See ya later, Tweek.” Clyde waved.    
  
“Yeah, bye.” and “Have fun” Stan and Kyle said as they hurriedly gathered to watch the commotion.    
  
As Tweek walked away, he couldn’t help but think that a fight against two people- even if one of those people  _ were  _ Cartman, was just a tad unfair. And he wasn’t alone in that regard either, but he could do little else but head out with a pitiful glance spared towards the amassing crowd.    
  
“Ha!” Cartman laughed “Even your roommate isn’t gonna help you out. Lame!”    
  
“I don’t need his help.” Craig explained. “Now hurry up and swing so I can claim self defense.”    
  
“Oh yeah?” he shifted around on his heels a little, clearly hyping himself (and the spectators) up for a heated battle. “You heard him, kick his ass Butters!”    
  
“I am not Butters.” Butters corrected, “I am Chaos, and you will know my wrath!”    
  
Craig prepared himself for the attack, partly expecting a punch. But rather, ‘Chaos’ extended his hands, and--    
  
A bolt of lightning erupted from the light fixture and struck the ground beneath his feet. Had he been a millisecond slower, that would have hurt like hell.    
  
“Jesus Christ!” Stan shouted. “Don’t actually kill him, Butters!”    
  
“I told you, I am not Bu-Ah!” without warning, Butters was knocked back several feet with such a momentum that he tumbled into several bystanders. One of which happened to be Timmy, who was nearly knocked clean out of his wheelchair.    
  
“ _ Stop this foolishness, this is getting out of hand!”  _ he commanded. But alas, his request fell on deaf ears. Evidently the injuries only made them all the more excited to witness the outcome of the fight.    
  
“Damnit Butters, get your shit together. You’re embarrassing me!” Cartman wailed. He faltered slightly as Craig took a step closer, looking less than amused. “What? You want a piece of this?!”    
  
He came closer and Cartman was fresh out of cannon fodder  _ and  _ a place to run as the crowd had closed up around them. So he swallowed the vague little ounce of anguish and regret (that definitely wasn’t there because he regretted absolutely nothing about this) and taunted- “Okay. Alright. Fine, that’s how you wanna do it?! Let’s fucking do it bro!”    
  
A pale white light overshadowed his features for a moment, and what emerged in its place was a foe so formidable that it was considered a global threat in several nations. That’s right, he was--    
  
A racoon.    
  
“Aw, it’s like a little cat with a mask!”    
  
A wave of aww spread through the crowd like a disease; yes; overcome with the cute. Biting back his frustration, Cartman reared up for an attack and leapt at Craig’s stupidly stuck-up face. He’d show these assholes once and for all that racoons were not to be trifled with. That underestimating him came at a price, and a costly one at th-   
  
“Oh, shit!”    
  
In the meantime, Craig had sidestepped the rather straightforward attack and reciprocated with a solid punch to the gut. Knocking Cartman (Coonman?) almost literally out of the park.    
  
“Ooh.” Several bystanders mimicked a pitiful groan in a vague show of empathy, as that ought have ‘hurt like a bitch’. A moment of silence overcame them for a moment as they watched the raccoon’s feet twitch lamely-- until going still.    
  
Then, “Woohoo!”    
  
“Nice hit, dude!”    
  
“That was awesome!”    
  
People he’d never met (and quite frankly didn’t really care to meet) were surrounding him not, giving all kinds of congratulatory pats and high fives that he definitely didn’t ask for. Granted, the attention wasn’t  _ horrible,  _ but…    
  
“That was so fucking stupid…”    
  
_ “Attention. Ward C, please dispose of your breakfast and return to your rooms. I repeat: Ward C; Breakfast has now concluded, please return to your rooms. _ ”    
  
There was a collective groan among all cafeteria goers who were a little less than pleased to have their entertainment squandered, but nonetheless they were quick to disperse and go their separate ways.    
  
As the crowd parted, Craig threw a glance at the tray that he’d been forced to abandoned. As it was now food for the flies in the trash, and he was set to deal with an empty stomach until God knows when they were fed again.    
  
“Hey. Nice job knocking Cartman down a peg.” A girl approached him and extended her hand. “I’m Wendy. Welcome to the kick-Cartman’s-sorry-ass club.”    
  
“Uh...Thanks.” he said, shaking her hand half-heartedly.    
  
“You’re Tweek’s roommate, right? I hope he hasn’t caused you any trouble. He can be a little sporadic, but he means well.”    
  
“Uh-huh.” he’d take that with a grain of salt.    
  
“Let’s exchange numbers. If Cartman messes with you again, or if you’re having a hard time in general and just need to talk-- Wendy’s got you covered.”   
  
Though her smile was genuine, he couldn’t help but feel that she was a bit too enthused to be mingling with a total stranger. Unless she was trying to jump his bones-- in which case, he had to admit, she was more straightforward than the others generally were..    
  
Regardless, “They  _ took  _ my phone.”    
  
Policy or some other nonsense, so they’d said.    
  
“Oh, right… You’re new, so they haven’t gotten around to it yet, but you’ll eventually get a standard-issued phone with all kinds of neat stuff to it. It can’t make calls beyond the facility’s internal server, but it’s a good way to communicate with the people around you… Y’know, once you get used to it.”    
  
“ _ Seriously?”  _ he was unable to suppress his groan. “That’s lame.”    
  
“Yeah, but… It’s better than nothing, right? I would  _ die  _ without my phone! And I’m not even kidding.”    
  
“Right…” Though it wasn’t his intention to sound like a total jackass-- “Did you need something?”    
  
“Well…” she hesitated. “There is  _ one  _ thing.”    
  
-   
  
“So, Tweek. Feel any different?”    
  
“N-Not really… Can I put my clothes back on?!” he pleaded.    
  
The examinations were generally quite simple, depending on the nature of the user’s ability, the researchers (directed by none other than the scientifically devout Mephesto himself) would run several diagnostics to determine the basics. The ability, the triggers, the weaknesses and etc. Tweek was due for the same examination, except…    
  
Well, they tended to be a bit more complicated for those who demonstrated…  _ unusual  _ abilities.    
  
“Interesting. No noticeable physical defects and yet you are  _ still  _ unable to reproduce the simplest command with your ability. I’ve never seen anything like it.”    
  
He had a feeling that he shouldn’t take that as a compliment. “Can I  _ go now?”  _ _  
_ _  
_ “Not yet, my boy.” without warning, a syringe penetrated the vein in Tweek’s forearm- causing him to cry out and twitch.    
  
“Ah! What the hell, man?!”    
  
“A simple blood test. No need to worry, it’s perfectly safe.” he flicked the needle and inspected the vial closely, disassembling it in order to run the small amount of blood through a scanner. “Tell me, Tweek. How is that medication working?”    
  
He spared the doctor an unhappy glance. “Fine..? I mean, I’m still seeing gnomes…”    
  
“Gnomes, is it? I see… Ah, well.” he wrapped something around Tweek’s arm and pressed a button. It gradually tightened until the circulation was nearly cut off entirely. As much as he wanted to cry out in protest, he’d learned well enough by then that doing so would only cause the contraption to tighten further. It was the bain of his existence, really. “Anything else? No improvement?”    
  
“Not really…” he frowned. If anything, he’d just been getting worse. Still less than efficient control over himself and no signs of any progress being made in the near future. It was disappointing, to say the least.    
  
Mephesto hummed out loud and examined some paperwork. “It says here that you’re currently being victimized by several disorders. Is that true?”    
  
“Yes..” ‘victimized’ was one way of putting it, but he felt that it was more accurately described as blatant unyielding torture.    
  
“In any case, I believe I have a theory as to what could be causing your little predicament.”    
  
“Really?” his head perked up slightly.    
  
“Yes… Tweek, I’m afraid you’re…”    
  
Tweek’s heart began to race--    
  
“A spazz.”    
  
...and then dropped. Much like his hopes and expectations.    
  
Mephesto laughed, “I’m kidding. Mostly. But really-- I think a majority of the problems you experience in regards to your abilities could be attributed to a severe chemical imbalance in your brain.”    
  
“...Huh?”    
  
He pointed to a chart depicting the brain, broken up into several labels and categorized according to functionality. He zoomed into a specific area of the brain on the monitor and circled it. “See here- This is the  _ amygdala. _ In ordinary humans, it’s the part of the brain most notable for controlling the way that humans experience emotion. To have a defect in this part of your brain would commonly classify you as a sociopath or as I like to call it, a  _ Cartman. _ ”    
  
Tweek tugged on his hair. “Oh..?”    
  
“Oh is right. See  _ here, _ ” Mephesto directed his attention to another section of the screen, depicting an altogether separate brain. “The CT scan of Wendy Testaburger… Although, I could exchange this scan with almost every single ability user in this facility and  _ this  _ part of the brain,” he circled the amygdala “Would remain the same.”    
  
“As you know, one of the quickest ways to denote whether or not someone is an ability user is to take a look at their brain. Those who use abilities tend to have larger amygdalas than the average person. So far, we’ve assumed that this has something to do with the emotional concentration required to  _ maintain  _ an ability.”    
  
Tweek felt his ears ringing- but for the most part, he understood the gist of what was being said, and that was good enough.    
  
“ _ You,  _ on the other hand-” he pulled up a final chart “Show no signs of that enlargement.”    
  
“I don’t?!”    
  
“You don’t. But don’t be alarmed, Tweek, this doesn’t make you some kind of  _ freak. _ ” he assured, “It just makes you unique in such a way that makes you a medical phenomena.”    
  
“I-I don’t wanna be a phenomena! Isn’t there a way to… I don’t know, make it bigger?!”    
  
“Oh, sure! And while we’re at it, why don’t we cure cancer and end world hunger?” he laughed. “You kids are all the same… ‘isn’t there anything we can do, doctor?!’ If only you truly understood the world from a  _ medical  _ perspective.”    
  
Ignoring that, Tweek defeatedly put his clothes back on.    
  
Once finished, Mephesto took his wrist and scanned his bracelet- then let him go. The doors proceeded to unlock and slide open, and Tweek was more than ready to get the hell out of there.    
  
“Ah yes, and as usual- should you notice anything unusual about your powers, do let a staff member know. I’d hate to see you lose control and cause a catastrophic event that annihilates all of your friends and family.”    
  
“Is that possible?!”    
  
“I don’t know. Probably.”    
  
“Ah!” He ripped a clump of his hair out and scattered.    
  
In the meantime, Mephesto turned to himself and reflected on his shortcomings.    
  
“Ah. Perhaps I should explain it with puppets next time…”    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this with a lame cold 
> 
> P.S. the song that Mr. Mackey sings is "We are going to be friends" by The White Stripes. Courtesy of my first grade teacher.
> 
> Song of the week- Float On by Modest Mouse.


	3. Chapter 3

Mephesto’s proclamation wouldn’t stop resounding in his head. An anomaly. Phenomena. The minute he tried to lay down he was overcome with the defeat of having finally confirmed that there was something wrong with him after all, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Hey.”

Furthermore, what if his parents found out? Were they going to make things worse? Use it to advertise the shop somehow? He could picture it now. ‘Come try Tweek Bros-- Best coffee in town, featuring our very own freak show!’

“Hey.”

In fact, they might even sell him to the circus for a profit. But he wasn’t talented in the slightest, and the smell of elephants made him sick! There’s no way he’d survive in that world. What if he had a peanut allergy and his head swelled up and-

“Dude, would you fucking stop?”

He paused before he could burn another hole in the floor and looked towards Craig, who looked less than amused as he leaned against the wall beneath the window. Similarly to what one would find in a bathroom, the window was rectangular and narrow. It was also several feet above the ground- tall enough that Tweek had to stand on the bed in order to see through it, but just seemed to stop above Craig’s head.

“H-Huh? Oh… Sorry..”

“You’ve been doing that for an hour. What the fuck is wrong with you.” he asked, folding his arms with evident disdain.

Tweek flinched. “Agh… Uh… My brain? I think the gnomes are pulling my brain out! Can that happen?! Oh god, what if it was the coffee. My parents drugged me. Oh god…” he bit the corners of his nails.

The look on Craig’s face was akin to that of somebody who’d just watched a car wreck and he didn’t need to say anything to establish the fact that he thought Tweek was insane. He knew it and Tweek felt it. “Dude, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know!” Tweek began to pace again. But per the look of intolerance on Craig’s face and the way his shoulders were steadily arched back as if he was at a perpetual state of prepared-to-hit-someone, he instead halted in his place and popped a pill into his mouth. Swallowing it dry left an unpleasant aftertaste on his tongues but it was all the more a distraction from the nonsense encapsulating his head.

With a deep, disappointed breath- “Jesus. What’s this place done to you?”

“N-Nothing!” Tweek said “It’s just… agh. I’ve always been like this! Th-This place isn’t bad.. No, ah, it was worse back home actually. At-At least here I’m around people like me?”

“So… It’s cool that you’re getting the shit kicked out of you by that fatass everyday.”

Once again, he flinched. “C-Cartman is always like that. It’s not just me.”

“Uh-huh. So you’re cool with that?”

“Of course not!” Tweek rubbed his arms as if the temperature had hit a steady decline. In actuality, he just couldn’t settle in the stiff atmosphere without holding himself in some way. Wary that his skin would crumble and fall apart somehow. “But… it’s better than what school was like! Oh God, I was such a freak…”

The years of his early adolescence was not something he generally liked to recall, as the majority of it was summed up with a mixture of ridicule, fascination and embarrassment. In other words, it was hell.

“Dude. Get home schooled.” he suggested, half-seriously. It was something he’d never personally consider himself, but this kid seemed like the type of person who functioned semi-well being locked away from society. “Drop out. Get a job. Get stoned in your parent’s basement for the rest of your life.”

“Y-You don’t understand, home was worse! My parents, we had a coffee shop, but, but since I was an only child I had most of the shifts! Before school, after school, at night, there was coffee in my veins, man!” The withdrawals had arguably been the most insufferable part of his transition to the facility but after a month or so (when the twitching mildly subsided) the lack of caffeine became a lot more… tolerable.

“Ugh… Do you know how stressful that is?! I couldn’t sleep for days. Everything tasted like coffee. I see gnomes for God’s sake! This place is way less stressful than that! Ah, well, it was… But…” he approached the words as carefully as he could. “But then they had to go and give me a roommate. Why?! I used to be able to go to my room and, ugh, relax. Now I can’t sleep because I feel like you’re gonna kill me!”

“For the last time I am not going to kill you in your sleep. You aren’t worth it and you’ve got to stop believing everything Cartman says to you.” he insisted. “I told you,” he continued “What happened that day was just a fuck up. I was pissed off, and you caught me at a really bad time. It doesn’t mean I’m gonna go American Psycho on you.”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t suspect you!”

Tweek did not miss the twinge in his brow as the irritation settled. Craig approached him and Tweek couldn’t help but take a timid step back.

“Look.” he stopped when they were an inch apart. “Being here is bad enough. I’m not dealing with this shit. So either control yourself, or get fucked.”

“I don’t know how! A-And I don’t wanna get fucked!”

Craig reached for his pocket and Tweek knew immediately that he’d made a mistake, and mentally prepared himself for the funeral that was going to ensue. We are gathered here today to commemorate the pathetic life that was Tweek Tweak’s, who was slain by a whittled out toothbrush.

“Here.” Craig pushed something into his chest and he briefly felt his heart jolt into his ribcage. Looking down, he took note of what… appeared to be some kind of disc-like object?

“Huh?”

“It’s a fidget spinner.” he explained. “My sister gave it to me. It’s supposed to help with anxiety, but since I don’t really struggle with it, you should probably take it.”

His eyes bounced back and forth between Craig and the spinner with uncertainty. “There’s… There’s no way I can take this. It’s from your sister! She- She would want you to have it.” He clutched the spinner in his hand and extended it forwards.

“It’s just sitting in my bag. Take it before I change my mind, because if you don’t, I’m going to lose my shit.”

Though utterly straight faced, Tweek had no doubt in his mind that Craig had every intention to keep his promise and Tweek certainly did not want to be on the receiving end of that. So- although with a modicum of guilt collecting in his heart- he accepted the toy. “...Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Craig turned away, his hands returning to his pockets instinctively as he moved towards his side of the room.

Curiously, Tweek examined the toy and gave it an exploratory spin. And it… Well, it spun. Depending on the energy he put into his spin, it would either quickly stabilize or spin for several seconds at a time.

Truthfully, it didn’t entirely help to cleanse the deep crevices of his minds- he was still acutely aware of the things around him. Mostly the fact that Craig was laying down on the opposite side of his room and that one false move could potentially piss him off. Worst case scenario, he’d revisit his decision to not kill Tweek in his sleep and change his mind.

...But the spinner was a sufficient distraction. Or at least, it beat burning rubber with his shoes.

The plastic is somewhat cold, he notes, likely having something to do with the fact that the temperature in each room was standardized to an appropriate chill. Sensation stimulation, or so it was eloquently put by the doctors who stood by the alleged physiological benefits of it. Though the residents had put together, at some point, that it was more than likely just an excuse to cut financial corners in regards to installing a proper heating system.

The spinner is also blue and dark and pronged with three individual blades.

In a way, he thought- it almost looked like a snowflake.

-

South Park was notoriously cold during winter. As was expected of a small, desolate town situated in the heart of Colorado’s mountains. That said, the combination of frostbite, snow plows and black ice made the season no less enjoyable for the little wide-eyed boy he’d been once upon a time.

What wasn’t to love about cocoa and cookies and presents? Even if his presents were more often than not pre-packaged bags of coffee beans that were acquired with the seasonal shipments.

“You can do it, son!” his dad called out, though it did little to quell the tremors in his knees as he held himself up on a pair of oversized skates.

He just wanted to turn tail and cling to his mother’s waist again if she’d allowed it, but he’d learned after being pushed over (for the fourth time) that it just wasn’t going to work in his favor. He had no choice but to venture across the frozen pond and be extra wary of every single flake of frost.

“H-Happy thoughts…” he urged himself. Christmas trees. Candy canes. Lollipops. Santa.

“You’re doing it, Tweek!” his mother joyously exclaimed. “You’re almost there. A little further!”

A little further. His parents, the whole town was on the other side of that pond and if he could just cross it, he’d be safe and sound. He’d be fine.

Though it would help if the pond remained stationary; if it would stop expanding and growing, or was that just his imagination? Was he insane? Maybe he’d always been insane.

Come to think of it, what had they even visited the pond for, that day? He couldn’t recall his parents skating with him, nor was their clothing indicative of winter weather at all. Actually- why was he fantasizing about candy canes and lollipops in July?

The ice cracked.

Tweek was consumed.

He jolted awake before the water could completely envelope his lungs, but his breathing was stifled nonetheless. He inhaled a desperate breath and looked around the room--

Firstly, he noted that he was alone. And secondly, that his fidget spinner had ended up on the pillow next to his head.

He takes another deep breath, wipes the blur from his eyes and notes the condensation that follows. A smoke-like mist as if he’d taken a long drag from a cigarette had him tilting his head in confusion, and sitting upright as he glanced at the window. The sun was out from what he could tell at his slightly inconvenient vantage point, but snowfall remained to be seen.

Yet, there remained a veil of frost across the floor of his room and he couldn’t help but wonder why the chill hadn’t woken him sooner.

His stomach rumbled nd he made a note of the clock on the wall, letting him know that he’d slept well into breakfast and was sure to miss the pleasure of his pancakes if he didn’t get a move on fast.

Slipping a sweater overhead, he pries a pair of old shoes onto his feet and tries the door.

His bracelet silently communicates with the door, which responds with an affirmative green. He scans his wrist again--

Which doesn’t work, so he tries a third time.

It doesn’t budge.

At that point, his worries were getting the best of him. Was it the sleep? Was he tired? Was he still dreaming? Was the door broken? Would he starve and die in here--?

Then, the door slides open and his heart jumps in his chest at what awaited him.

Mr. Mackey, security officer Barbrady and his roommate were front and center. Craig, begrudgingly being escorted back into the room.

Tweek moved aside to grant passage, but was unable to hide the concern on his face at the grumbling that Craig seemed preoccupied with.

“Now, you just sit here and think about what you’ve done young man. And be prepared to apologize, you caused trouble for a lot of people, mmkay!”

He looked stern. Barbrady, though stoic as ever, concurred with his reprimanding tone. “You pull another stunt like that and we’ll send you to the correctional ward, you little bastard!”

“Language, Barbrady.” Mackey chides- Craig rolled his eyes. “Now, I didn’t want to do this to you, Craig, mmkay. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, mmkay, ‘cause I know you’re knew. But I just… I’ve gotta ground you. That’s it. You are grounded!” he declared, “And you are not to come out of this room for the next… next 24 hours, mmkay!”

“Whatever.” Craig was at his bed by then and seemed contented with the prospect of ignoring them.

“You too, Tweek!” Mackey says, causing Tweek to jump.

“M-Me?!”

“That’s right. You two need to learn to get along and just… just stay put for a while! You hear me?! I will see you two tomorrow morning, mmkay?!”

Before Tweek can come up with an adequate response (a protest, an argument, anything--) Mackey is gone and the door slides shut behind them with a long, cacophonic beep. The locking mechanism had never sounded so brutal before.

“Craig?” Tweek looked towards his roommate with mild hesitation. “What’s going on?”

Craig doesn’t answer, and instead seems more interested in giving God the finger.

He took the hint and returned to his bed- albeit, still hungry and quite disappointed. But he knew better than to pry.

With little else to do, Tweek’s hands found the fidget spinner and continued to fidget. Though he supposed that he had his phone to worry about. Yes, there was that-- he could text Wendy or Thomas and them, although staring at the screen made him nauseous.

“I tried to bail.”

“You- You what?” he lost his grip on his spinner and it made a gentle thud as the pillow cushioned its landing.  
“You heard me. I tried to leave. Fuck this place.” he said.

Tweek looked away, finding that his gaze was a bit too heavy to handle. He just seemed so serious- Well, that wasn’t unusual for Craig, but- It was still uncomfortable.

Craig didn’t let up, though. His stair pierced the side of Tweek’s head. “Didn’t you have a life before this? Don’t you want fast food? Don’t you want to go to an arcade or something?”

“I..I do.” he admit, “But I.. uh, I don’t mind it here? Th-This place feels like home to me.” He tried to explain it to the best of his ability, but for the most part- it was an innate familiarity that drew him here. This was his home. His friends were here. And more importantly-- his parents weren’t.

“I mean, I… I don’t have to wake up at four in the morning, here! A-And the food always tastes kind of nice, once you get used to it. And I don’t have to stand at a counter all day and get yelled at! Or run the shop at 3am and get harrassed, or deliver weird packages to Canada! Y-Y’know?”

He looked towards Craig, though the look on his face told him that he wasn’t quite sold.

In fact-

“...Dude. I hope I never become you.”

There was a sharp pain in his heart; the type that made him want to swallow his breath and walk away. Had that been possible, it’s probably what he would have done.

...But here they were, sentenced to a subsequent twenty-four hours of monotonously staring at the wall as they pretended to tolerate one another. And Tweek was losing heart per every passing moment.

“You know-” he began “You’re being kind of a dick, dude!”

Craig’s head shot up. “Fuck off.” And he extended the courtesy of flipping him the bird.

Tweek took it upon himself to ignore that little mature remark-- and turn around, suddenly very interested in the fifty-seven cracks on the wall.

Time passed, and eventually-- pride was swallowed.

“...Why are you in such a hurry to leave, anyway? Was your life really that cool?” he asked.

He didn’t receive a response, which he’d more or less anticipated.

...At first. But eventually, a slight grumble resounded from the other side of the room in the form of words. “To be honest?” he began “It was lame.”

“We moved into town not too long ago-- My mom, dad, me and my little sister. I thought it was pretty fucking stupid; we lived in Denver and there was an actual city and shit to do, y’know? Not to mention I had to switch schools in the middle of the third semester. I didn’t give a shit about school, but it’s still fucking stupid. Because now that I’m out of school completely-- what was the point.”

Tweek listened carefully, while Craig raised up from his withdrawn, laid back seat and looked at him.

“It’s not like my life sucked though. I did stuff that was pretty normal for my age. Arcades, movies, parties, hot chicks… Smoking and drinking on the weekend. Shit like that.”

“O-Oh.”

“That’s not it. School was a pain in the ass. People found out that I had powers and kept coming up to me, either to date me or ask me to show them off like I’m some kind of rockstar.” he continued, “Eventually, I lost my shit and kicked some ass. Got suspended, got grounded, whatever. Rinse and repeat.”

“That...Uh… No offense, but that doesn’t sound very fun.” His parents would quite literally have ground him up into coffee if he’d pulled even a fraction of that.

“It’s not the life I left behind that I miss, though.” he explained. “It’s the fact that I could be doing shit now. Like drag racing. Picking up chicks. Robbing banks. And instead, I’m stuck in here where someone else decides when I get to eat, where I sleep and what I do every goddamn hour of the day. I feel like a fucking guinea pig.”

Tweek raised his head and looked at the ceiling. It was as dull and grey as the rest of the room.

“What… What brought you here?” he asked.

There was a moment of silence- some hesitation, on his part- before Craig reciprocated with an unpleasant mumble. “Bullshit…” And then, more eloquently- “At school, and around the neighborhood. Some fuckers found out about my ability and eventually they wouldn’t fuck off. They wanted to challenge me or fight me or whatever… I was fucked if I didn’t fight them. But when I did, someone would get hurt-- And that’s what happened.”

He sighed, again. Bundling up his fists as the anger resonated through him. “This fucking prick hit me and I punched him back. It put him in the hospital. They were going to send me to jail, but the judge made a deal with my parents… So it was either this,” he glanced up at the wall “Or jail.”

“...But I’m starting to prefer jail.”

Tweek considered the right thing to say and naturally, couldn’t find it. So he’d have to suffice with his honest opinions. “...I know that things seem… really shitty right now, but… This place isn’t so bad! I-I was nervous at first, too. I mean, really nervous. But, uh… You just… You get used to it? Oh god, no, that’s not what I meant to say!”

“Chill.”

“Oh-O-kay… What I meant to say was…” he chewed the inner part of his lip. “Th-Think of it this way. Maybe… Maybe there are people like Cartman here, and that sucks, but… at least they get it… I-- I couldn’t stand being called a freak all the time. I-I’m still not.. ‘Cool’ or anything, but at least, here- this is the one place where I feel sort of… Sort of normal.”

They were silent after that. Tweek worried that he’d said too much; Craig stared pensively at nothing in particular. The air stilled with a vague sort of tension for a moment before Craig offered with unexpected sincerity- “...Sorry for screwing both of us. That wasn’t cool.”

Tweek, unsure of what he’d just heard, looked towards Craig who almost looked ashamed of his actions. It caused a strange sensation in his throat. Warm. Almost like… satisfaction?

A slight smile found his lips, though he did his best to hide it. Best not to let Craig think he was any weirder than he’d already proven to be. “Th...Thank you.”

He returned to his fidget spinner-- up until something important suddenly occurred to him.

“Ah-- By the way, I forgot to ask… What is your ability? If, if you don’t mind talking about it!”

Craig shrugged. “It’s combat-class. I can punch something with three times the strength of a normal human… It used to only work when I was super pissed, though.”

Tweek considered it-- and honestly, he wasn’t sure he could imagine Craig with any other ability. Rude as it may seem, it just seemed… perfect. Like a shoe that wasn’t made to fit anybody else.

“No wonder you were able to beat Cartman…!”

“Actually.” he said “I didn’t use my ability at all during that fight.”

His eyes widened. “R-Really?! That’s so cool!”

Craig suppressed the molecule of pride welling up in his system. But it couldn’t be helped-- who didn’t like being praised?

“You must have an insane amount of self-control to have an ability like that… That’s awesome!”

Craig wasn’t sure what irritated him more-- the fact that he was perhaps the first and only person to seem so genuinely elated over something so goddamn trivial, or the fact that he didn’t mind it.

“You’re… weird. You know that, right?”

Tweek sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, I figured. Sorry.”

Don’t apologize, he almost said. But he kept his mouth shut.

Then he kept to himself.

-

It was midnight and Tweek was wide awake, staring at the light of his cellphone in the pitch darkness of the small space he shared with Craig, and was confined to for the next several hours. His fingers absently fiddled with his game as his mind struggled to settle on the most efficient way to solve the puzzle- or at least preoccupy his mind until he wore himself out.

And it seemed to be working-- until a low, steady thud caught his attention.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Footsteps? A lot of footsteps, evidently.

Or, more than likely it was his imagination serving to prove to him that he was even crazier than he’d given himself credit for.

Thud.

A loud, affirmative beep caught his attention so suddenly that he almost didn’t completely process what he’d heard. But as he looked up, the room was illuminated by a dim, green light.

Tweek pocketed his phone and approached the door slowly-- when it, much to his surprise, slid open as he neared it.

Peaking out into the hall, he noticed that several others were also sticking their heads out with reactions ranging from excitement to curiosity. Tweek leaned more towards fear.

A voice overcame the intercom, which somehow seemed several times louder at night. “Attention. For your safety, please stay inside of your rooms. I repeat. There is nothing to worry about, just a minor equipment malfunction. Head back inside, kids.”

Tweek hung onto his doorframe, prepared to do just that except that he noticed several kids wandering off in different directions. His heart swelled with a mixture of excitement and dread, and he glanced back at Craig. He’d lose his mind if he found out he was sleeping on this opportunity…

Then again, he’d lose his mind if Tweek woke him up. And he’s rather not spend the next few weeks in the infirmary, so he glanced between his roommate and the dimly lit corridor for a moment.

Then stepped out into it.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

That noise again.. Had anyone else noticed it?

“Th-Thomas!” he rushed over to his friend as he passed by. “What’s going on?”

“S-S-shit! Security breach? You should, ugh, probably fuck! Stay in your room..”

“Is everyone alright?” he thought about his friends.

“F..Fine!”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Do you hear that?” he looked around.

Thud.

“Ah-”

“Get out of my fucking way!” A loud, gruff voice tore between the two of them and ripped past. The ground rippling in the wake of it with a concoction of upturned rubble and mud.

“Wh-What the fuck?”

Tweek nearly hit the roof. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run and hide because it wasn’t any of his fucking business but--

But--

Fuck it.

“T-Tweek! Ah, shit! Where are you going?!” shouted Thomas.

Tweek would have loved to respond, but the truth was- he had no fucking clue. He was just following the trail of disaster because clearly he was out of his goddamn mind.

The closer he got, the more peculiar it seemed. It was almost as if something was trying to work its way up from the underground. And whatever it was must have been pretty damn powerful, because the building was built to withstand powers of Craig’s caliber. This shouldn’t happen.

All the more reason he’d be kicking himself in the face later on for getting the bride idea to charge headfirst after something that was absolutely none of his business.

By the time the chase ceased, he was by the entrance of the ward. And considerably out of breath, for that matter. Doubled over halfway on his knees, he pumped air into his lungs and relented, with great shame, that exercise was something that he probably shouldn’t have overlooked so much.

Then the ground split apart, and--

A person jumped out of the crevice. Tweek froze up, reeling both of his arms back (he was prepared to splash someone to death if he had to) with caution.

Contrary to the image he’d built up in his head, the kid was actually quite young. Possibly the same age as Tweek, though the rough nature of his appearance and the predominant scowl made him seem quite a bit older. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

He definitely did not recognize this kid. He would have remembered a French accent.

“Christophe!” Another voice appeared behind him, this one quite a bit softer. But as Tweek turned his head-- nothing was there.

Until there suddenly was. And it appeared in the shape of another young man, a fair complexion and a bit well put together in comparison but nonetheless-- scared the hell out of him.

“Ah!”

“You’re wasting time. Drill through the door now!” he commanded.

“Fuck you, I’m not some fucking pet, you British dogs always think you can boss us around!”

“W-Wait, drill through the door? Why? What’s going on!”

The young man, the blonde one took one look at Tweek and let out an exasperated sigh of dismay. “You idiot… You were seen. I told you not to be seen!”

“You fucking try being stealthy when you’re drilling a giant goddamn hole in the ground!”

“Enough!” he spat, “We don’t have time for this. Just do it now! As for you-” he turned towards Tweek, “You’re coming with us.”

“I--I’m what? No, there’s no way. I can’t!” Various images flashed through his mind. Most of which were unpleasant reminiscents of late night coffee, midday crashes and everything in between. The bad, the ugly and the uglier.

Still, the blonde one took his wrist and began to pull, while Christophe steadied himself in front of the door. It was similar to what each of the rooms contained, except significantly larger and far more complex in terms of regulations. The bedroom doors required a minimum of a valid wristband-- the front wouldn’t open for anyone but staff and those with explicit permission. Aside from exits and entries, it never opened for the residents.

Tweek almost felt blasphemous.

“I-I can’t! My friends are here!” he insisted, tugging himself away persistently. “This is my home, I can’t go with you guys! I won’t!”

“We weren’t giving you a choice, now shut him up!” said Christophe. “He’s screwed us enough as it is!”

Tweek watched him as he clasped both of his hands together, and gawked as they morphed into a large, steel drill that was the length and width of his torso. It was tall enough that the kid could barely see past it.

But of course, per his wishes, a hand was clasped tightly over his mouth and Tweek immediately struggled. “Mmph!”

“Quiet! You’ll ruin everything!” he chided directly in his ear.

He could do little else but watch and resent his own powerlessness as a hole was gradually pierced into the door-- but as he’d expected, it wasn’t being penetrated that easily. Every hole seemed to unveil another layer of steel and concrete.

“We’re almost there!” he said.

Tweek couldn’t leave.

“Hold steady!”

An alarm; footsteps in the distance.

“The last layer! I think I found it!”

Between the adrenaline and the fact that he couldn’t hear himself think-- he isn’t sure what came over him.

Except that it inspired a burst of energy unlike anything he’d experienced in years, as he unwittingly knocked the blonde kid off of him and threw his arms outright. “I said no!”

Light shone through the barricade. The drill shifted itself back into flesh and bone and arms, and the kid seemed all too eager to pry open the cracks in the wall.

\--Until he found, quite inconveniently, that he couldn’t move. “What the-- What the fuck! Gregory, you piece of shit. Is this some kind of joke?!”

“What are you talking about!” he shouted. “You’re practically there just go already!”

“I fucking can’t!”

Gregory stepped forward.

No-- he tried to step forward.

But deposits of ice held them both in place.

Tweek felt as though the wind had been knocked out of his stomach, and could barely breathe amidst the pressure. So much so that he hadn’t even noticed it when the footsteps grew louder and several voices erupted from behind.

“There they are!”

“Neutralize them!”

“Wait.” it was Gregory. “No, no. NO-!”

At once, their bracelets blinked in rapid succession with a red, eerie light. The noise becoming increasingly more unpleasant as a newly set timer appeared to count down.

One- “Fuck you! You bastards! And Fuck you too, God!”

Two- “You son of a bitch, you’ve ruined everything!”

His head spun. Ice. It wasn’t cold. But there was ice--

Three.

Electrical currents tore through their bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a late update because life sucks with a capital D 
> 
> Anyway, song of the week is "The Last of the Real Ones" by Fall Out Boy. 
> 
> P.S. I added songs to the notes of the previous chapters as well, if anyone's curious. Give 'em a listen if you're bored.


	4. Chapter 4

Intense fluorescent lights bore into his eyes from every direction. Pins pricked his skin in three different places and for a second, he could have sworn that he’d been completely submerged in a hot bath. But the rise in his temperature was rather more likely the result of being encased in a cylindrical tube of heat. Sweat amassed at the base of his forehead and as much as he would have liked to wipe it off, he found himself quite restrained.   
  
Hazily, he tried to recall what had come first-- the odd jolt of electricity throughout his body, the heat, the light in his eyes or the realization that he’d fallen unconscious at some point or another. Time seemed to merge into one unorganized jumble in his already-scattered brain and it understandably exasperated the pulsating of his wrist and throat.   
  
“Wh-gah, Where am I?” he asked, chest heaving wearily. He could hardly hear his own voice over the noise that the machine was emitting. It was a consistent rumble akin to having a jackhammer exercising the base of whatever he was strapped to.   
  
Minutes passed with no reply when he began to panic, fingering the leather restraints to the best of his ability with every intention to tug himself free. Except that the bands were secured in three different places on his torso alone and more-so on both of his legs. To say that he was fastened in tightly was a polite understatement.   
  
“Let me out of here!” he cried, trying his strength at his wrist. The more he tugged, the more utterly restrained he felt, and it was maddening.   
  
Think. Think. _Think._ _  
_ _  
_ Tweek inhaled deeply and clutched the skin of his palms tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and paused.   
  
The demonic whirring faded into the background. Memories, names and faces resurfaced with semi-clarity. He no longer found himself troubled by the sweat on his brow.   
  
In fact, the weather had become significantly chillier in the moments of his recuperation. So much so that when he exhaled, he saw his breath--   
  
Among a frost-covered plane of plastic and lights that struggled to bleed through the thickness of it all. Fear welled up in his eyes for a moment as it seemed to draw closer- touching his feet with a gentleness that surprised him.   
  
Then the lights were shut off, and his table was pulled from its socket.   
  
“Interesting!” Mephesto declared, scribbling a decisive conclusion onto his clipboard “So your secondary power can be triggered by external stimuli. Wonderful-- Tweek, you’re becoming more and more fascinating every day.”   
  
It took a moment to register what had happened. The restraints were dispelled and Tweek sat up quickly, swinging his feet over the edge of the gurney. “I, I don’t want to be fascinating!”   
  
“Well. It’s not often that a person is granted multiple abilities. That said, we can’t rule out the possibility that the abilities you’ve displayed so far can be categorized under one classification. But that’s just cabbage.” he said.   
  
Tweek had half a mind to request an explanation, but mostly seemed intent on eyeing the door. “Ah… O-Okay. Can I put my clothes on now?”   
  
It had taken a moment to realize that his shirt was removed at some point or another, but now that he had, he wanted nothing more than to fully dress himself and pretend that Mephesto wasn’t the strangest person he had ever met. So much so that he was too busy fretting over his naked torso to consider the rudeness of it all.   
  
“Well, the results you’ve given me so far have been satisfactory, so… Yeah, sure. Have at it.” he gestured half-heartedly towards the door with the hand that he permanently rested on his cane. Though he seemed none too enthused about the prospect of having his research stunted.   
  
Nothing but a twitch and several indecipherable mumbles passed his lips as he shakily found his shirt and tried his hands at mending the buttons. They wound up uneven for the most part, but so long as he found that the shirt was able to hook around his chest-- he was satisfied.   
  
Making his way towards the door, a thought occurred to Tweek.   
  
He paused, turned around and glanced in Mephesto’s direction. “Uh...What. What happened to th-ugh, those guys? From before…”   
  
“Hm?” Mephesto stamped his cane against the floor, then gave an affirmative hum “Oh, I suppose you’re referring to your little defector friends. Well, they’re being held up in their rooms for the time being to think about their behavior. Afterwards, I believe they’ll be transferred to a ward that is better equipped to handle those of you with more… behavioral issues.”   
  
Tweek had heard of that before-- At least, in the sense that the way it was described struck an unpleasant chord in him, and he suddenly felt himself particularly sympathetic with those kids. He understood why the punishment would be severe, but to be displaced from their ward must have been rough.   
  
By virtue of his timing, he’d been fortunate enough to finish up in the midst of a free block. A period of time- usually an hour and a half- in which the residents of their ward had no particular obligations to do anything and were permitted to roam around (or stay put) as they pleased. Generally, it was the hour of visitations and other free-spirited endeavors.   
  
And he knew exactly where to find his friends.   
  
Parallel to the dining hall, there was a courtyard situated in the center of the building that tended to be the most popular hangout spot. Aside from the vending machines, drinking fountains and benches, it happened to be in possession of one of the only features reminiscent of the outdoors within the entire facility.   
  
In the midst of the courtyard, stretching from the top to its bottom was an imposing atrium entirely encased in glass, with the exception of the metal-rimmed door. So-many holes were speckled throughout the upper layers of the glass to allow for sufficient oxygen, and the top opened up to a wide view of whatever the Colorado weather would permit them to see. Today- it was a radiant stretch of sunlight that bathed the interior with a warm and ample glow.   
  
His friends were basking in the light of the atrium while making use of the indoor court.   
  
Suppressing an inkling of hesitation, he approached them with a sheepish smile. “H-Hey guys…”   
  
“Tweek!” Clyde seemed to perk up when he caught sight of him and ran to his side, followed (albeit slightly less energetically) by Token and Jimmy.   
  
“Heya, Tweek!” Jimmy began “So wha...wha...what happened, dawg?”   
  
“Jimmy, please don’t say that-”   
  
In any case, Tweek wasn’t sure where to begin, his recollection of the night’s prior events were fuzzy at best. But the curiosity in his friends eyes seemed overly expectant of a proper explanation. “Oh, uh...Ah… it-it was an accident?”   
  
“We heard that you tried to bust out of here.” Token supplied, then added- “That doesn’t sound like you, though.”   
  
Clyde conceded, “Yeah! When I heard that I was like… No way, man! Tweek was probably kidnapped or something. You’d _never_ leave this place if you didn’t have to!”   
  
“Um…” Well, Clyde wasn’t wrong. It still left an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach though. “I, just… got caught up with the wrong-”   
  
“Hey, show us your powers!” said Token. “I heard that you went beast-mode on security back there.”   
  
“ _I_ heard that you got so pissed you caused an avalanche and flooded the entire facility with snow!”   
  
“Like that would happen!”   
  
“Like _what_ would happen.”   
  
They looked up-- Tweek’s eyes rested on Craig’s form; as relaxed and unbothered as ever, he stood by with his hands dipped into the pockets of his jeans. When he found that they’d inadvertently matched their eyes, he was the first to look away.   
  
“C’mon Tweek--” Clyde bounced on his legs like an impatient child. “Show us, show us!”   
  
Tweek hesitated. Token furthered the encouragement by saying, “Yeah, we’ve gotta see it!”   
  
And for some reason or another, he found himself looking to Craig for help. Though he had nothing to offer and seemed contented with lending himself as a simple spectator.   
  
He took a deep breath, then clasped his hands together, concentrating--   
  
When he released them, a misshapen slab of ice had formed between his palms. What was initially intended to be a spherical imitation of a snowball had turned into a nightmarish block, but nonetheless-- it was… something.   
  
“Woah…” Clyde’s eyes widened.   
  
Craig watched the cube with silent intrigue, while Token studied it. “Hm… It’s not very...y’know. But, uh, nice work man!”   
  
“Yeah, who would’ve thought there was more to your power than ruining lunch!”   
  
“ _Clyde!_ ” Token elbowed him harshly. Clyde looked shocked and appalled to be hit.   
  
“Anyway,” he continued “You should join the game. Cartman’s going one on one with Kyle right now.”     
  
“I’m, uh, okay.” he said. And not just because the idea of putting himself in a situation where Cartman was ethically allowed to shove him was unappealing. “I’m pretty tired…”   
  
“Oh yeah?” said Token “Why?”   
  
He cringed to think about it. “Mephesto keeps doubling my examinations… It’s been like, one day, and I’m dead, man! I can’t take much more of this..”   
  
“Examinations?” Craig asked “Like, tests or something?”   
  
Clyde and Token exchanged looks of momentary confusion- before turning to Craig with abrupt realization. “Oh, right!” Clyde began.   
  
Token continued- “You probably haven’t gotten any yet, because you’re new, but examinations are basically appointments with a specialist to determine the specifics about your power. Like… what triggers it, and what your potential weaknesses are.”   
  
“Sometimes it’s just blood work though.” Clyde said, “To determine if it’s genetic and stuff.”   
  
“I-In my case…” Tweek explained “My, ugh, power is unstable. So they keep running tests, agh, and it gets-- super draining!”   
  
“Not all tests are like that though.. You’ll probably have _your_ first checkup in a week or so.”   
  
“Oh.” Craig said.   
  
“That reminds me.” Clyde gasped “You got your phone, right? Let me see it!”   
  
Craig suppressed a roll of his eyes as he pulled the device out of his pocket. It was an unassuming smartphone with a standard-black case and logo stamped on the back. Across the bottom was a serial number and an activation code.   
  
“Nice!” Token also took a look at the phone and Tweek, since he was curious, took a look too. “New model… I should probably upgrade soon. I heard they’ve green-lit way more apps in the newest update!”   
  
“Kind of sucks that you have to buy them, though.. Ah, hey, Craig, give me your number!”   
  
Craig extended his phone to Clyde, who took it graciously and began inserting himself as a contact.   
  
When the number was added, and Craig was granted the privilege of having his phone back, he added with mild concern- “It’s cool and all, but I’m pretty sure it’s broken. Which fucking sucks, by the way. I’ve been trying to call my sister all day..”   
  
“Your sister?” Token asked, his head tilted slightly. Then his eyes lit up. “Oh… Sorry, dude, we can’t reach the outside world with these.”   
  
His jaw dropped. “You’ve _got_ to be fucking kidding me-”   
  
“It’s in the contract, remember?” Clyde offered “No contact with the outside world whatsoever until we’re completely done with our program… Liability, or whatever.”   
  
“So what’s the point of the phone?”   
  
“Well…” Token hummed to himself as he considered the best way to explain it. Then- took Tweek’s shoulder. “For example, if you needed to, say, text Tweek about something, you could do it by putting _his_ number into your phone. And because his number is registered with the internal server, you can call him from wherever you are-- but numbers to external area codes aren’t going to go through.”   
  
“That is _so_ fucking lame!” he exclaimed with a groan.   
  
“Yeah, but… it’s the rules, y’know?” Clyde gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat. “It’s annoying, but at least we’ve got games and stuff!”   
  
“Clyde’s just saying that because he doesn’t have to deal with his mom.”   
  
“Hey!”   
  
Token and Jimmy laughed as Clyde went red in the face.   
  
“No fatass, fuck you, I’m not playing!”   
  
“Don’t be such a fucking loser, Kyle, I won fair and square!”   
  
“It’s not ‘fair and square’ if you sit your fatass on the ball, Cartman!” Stan interjected.   
  
In light of their introspective discussion, Clyde noted dutifully- “Hey, guys, the court’s open!”   
  
“Ah, cool! Craig, you in?”   
  
Craig shrugged; Token took it as the closest thing he’d get to a yes and was quick to join Clyde on the court. “Sick!”   
  
“I th-think I’ll s..s...sit this one out, you guys.” Jimmy said, making his way towards the benches.   
  
Tweek eyed the benches and the basketball court, then evaluated whether or not the ache in his body was enough to keep him grounded for the remainder of the period.   
  
However, in his lag, he wound up in a rather unfortunate situation- as in, quite literally situated in the midst of Stan, Kyle and the ever-so-eloquent Cartman.   
  
“Screw you guys, I totally won that game!”   
  
“That’s bullshit and you know it, Cartman!”   
  
“C’mon guys, we just lost the court!”   
  
Either they didn’t _notice_ Tweek standing there- or they just didn’t care.   
  
“Ah for fuck’s sake, you let _Craig_ have the court?! You fucking suck, Kyle!”   
  
“This is _your_ fault!”   
  
“Stan Marsh.” That monotonous drone came over the intercom just in time. “Please report to the examination room. I repeat; Stan Marsh, please report to the examination room.”   
  
“Fuck.” he cursed. “Well, whatever… See ya guys later I guess.” He turned away from the court in defeat, then spared a glance at Tweek. “You too, dude. Bye.”   
  
“Bye, fag!”   
  
“Jesus Christ, Cartman.”   
  
Tweek was uncomfortable. He began to walk away.   
  
“Hold on.” Cartman’s voice was the verbal equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. “Who do you think you are, trying to break out of here before the rest of us? If anyone’s getting out of this shit hole it’s gonna be me, you got that?!”   
  
Tweek struggled for an appropriate response-- not that Cartman seemed interested in one.   
  
“For the last time, Cartman, Tweek was _not_ trying to bust out of here!” Kyle insisted. “It was probably a stupid misunderstanding. Right, Tweek?”   
  
“R-ah, Right.” he affirmed with some hesitation, wary of the stern look that Cartman (or the designated fatass) was giving him.   
  
“What the fuck ever, man! You guys were totally trying to break out. Which is hella lame by the way? Just saying.”   
  
“What’s _lame_ about wanting to see your family?!”   
  
“Uh, _everything_ ?” he placed his hands on his hips. “This place is like, the one place where you don’t have to do shit, and I don’t have to listen to my mom bitch about stupid shit all day!”   
  
“Then why do _you_ want to leave?”   
  
“Duh,” Cartman’s jaw dropped in the shape of an exaggerated ‘O’, as he replied with a condescending tilt in his voice- “I wanna leave before Tweek does!”   
  
“Quit picking on Tweek, fatass!”   
  
“Y-Yeah, quit picking on T...T...Tweek!” Jimmy added.   
  
“ _Who’s_ picking on Tweek?”   
  
They turned to face Wendy, hands on her hips as she matched Cartman’s stature with a demeanor that was somehow even more intimidating.   
  
“Ah, fuck…” Cartman groaned. “See the basketball courts? No girls allowed.”   
  
“Oh, okay.” Wendy said. She checked her phone for a moment then slipped it in her pocket in complete disregard to the abhorration on his face. “Anyway, glad to see you’re okay, Tweek! When I heard that you tried to break out I _knew_ something was up. There’s no way you’d wanna leave this place, right?”     
  
“R..Right!" he said. Though for some reason, a modicum of shame crept up in his stomach. “I, I mean it wasn’t me…! I just..”   
  
“It’s fine, Tweek. You don’t need to explain yourself to me!” she smiled, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He found himself smiling slightly in return.   
  
Wendy always seemed so inexplicably kind. For no discernable reason other than that it was simply her nature to stand up for the weak, and more importantly- put Cartman in his place without a trace of fear.   
  
That was probably why it was so easy to admire Wendy. And Craig, too-- They both seemed to share whatever trait it was that allowed them to face Cartman completely unafraid.   
  
“I kind of get it, though… I mean, there are some things that I really miss about the world!”   
  
“Like what,” Cartman scoffed “Shopping? Getting your nails done? Ballet classes?”   
  
“Me too!” Kyle agreed-- again, with total disregard for Cartman- “Like, I used to take my little brother, Ike, to the skatepark all the time. And go to concerts and stuff! But there’s nothing like that in here.”   
  
“I know!” she groaned. “I mean, no _internet_ ? That is _so_ lame!”   
  
“Screw you guys,” Cartman said, with an unamused roll of his eyes, “I’m going back to my room.”   
  
In any case, they continued.   
  
“I miss the f...f….funny shows.” Jimmy said. “I was a killer at st..stand up night.”   
  
“Hey, Clyde, pass it here!” Token called. Instead, Clyde made an attempt at what was _supposed_ to be a ‘sick dunk’ and face planted right into the floor.   
  
“Oh y-yeah…” Jimmy continued “Real grass, t-too.”   
  
Understandably, Clyde decided to take a break and limp over to the general vicinity where the conversation was taking place- “Are you guys talking about what you’re gonna do when you leave again?”   
  
“Not really.” Wendy explained, “We’re talking about the stuff we miss about the real world. You know, internet, social functions, parks. Real grass.”   
  
Clyde experimentally tried the grass beneath his feet. It was the artificial kind-- it would never die, and never grow. “Oh… I miss the beach. The sand, the sunbathing, the hot chicks!”   
  
“Ooh, you’re right!” she said.   
  
Kyle agreed- “Yeah! But I used to _hate_ getting sunburnt.”   
  
“Clyde?” Token ran over to the crowd, face crossed between concern and curiosity. “What’s up, man, are you getting back in the game?”   
  
“Hold up, we were just talking about the stuff we miss about the outside.”   
  
“Yeah, Kyle said. “Like the beach and the internet.”   
  
“Oh.” Token said, tucking the ball under his arm. Then, with a wistful smile “I miss rain.”   
  
“Ooh!” the four of them unanimously cried. “Good one!”   
  
“Running around in the rain, trying not to get wet, stomping around in the puddles. That was my favorite part of Spring!” he exclaimed.   
  
“Hey, wait a minute…” Clyde cupped his chin. Then- “We don’t need _rain_ . We have Tweek!”   
  
“...Huh?” Tweek looked up, realizing all too acutely the amount of eyes that were suddenly on him. He looked at Clyde warily.   
  
“...Hey, you’re right!” said Token “Tweek, you’re basically a human rainmaker! So _go_ for it!”   
  
Tweek looked around for an out-- literally anything to divert their expectations, but found none. Even Craig, who stalked slowly up to the group per his sudden lack of a basketball, seemed vaguely interested in the idea. At least in the sense that he’d yet to outright call it stupid.   
  
“Yeah, Tweek.” Wendy encouraged. “Go for it! If anyone can do it, _you_ can!”   
  
Something heavy sat in his stomach. It was a huge, imposing rock of hesitation that he couldn’t seem to stifle-- and somehow, the expectation, the hope and sincerest of encouragements that they seemed to offer…   
  
Really didn’t help.   
  
Nonetheless, he took a deep breath and shut his eyes, willing their voices away.   
  
_Rain. Rain. Focus on rain,_ he pleaded with himself.   
  
It was simple. Just a little bit of rain. He could do it.   
  
“Hey, I think it’s working, it’s starting to sprinkle!” Wendy said. He couldn’t see her, but he imagined that she would smile and look at him with pride.   
  
“Yeah, I think you’re right!” added Token.   
  
_You can do this!_ He determined. _Rain...Rain… Rain!_   
  
_“Tweek, honey.”_ the voices started. _“Don’t be shy. Show the nice man what you showed mommy and daddy.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Tweek could barely see past the man’s waist; looking up to meet his eyes was a task that was altogether far too daunting. How his mother expected him to pull himself together long enough to ‘put on a show’ was beyond him._ _  
_ _  
_ _Nonetheless, he could see his father eyeing him from the corner of his eye- smiling like he was already proud._ _  
_ _  
_ _“O-Okay…” Tweek inhaled an unsteady breath, before collecting himself and flattening his palms out._ _  
_ _  
_ _The thoughts that had busied his mind came to a screeching halt. The air filled his senses with a sudden pervasive mist that seemed to gradually amass into fragile droplets. It wasn’t until his brow was wet and dripping that he opened his eyes. A soft, gray cloud loomed overhead just beneath the ceiling fan and sprung to life their own personal fountain._ _  
_ _  
_ _He’d done it. He’d created rain._ _  
_ _  
_ _With a smile, he looked towards his mother and father-- then felt the pressure of somebody’s hand running through his hair._ _  
_ _  
_ _The man looked down at him with a soft smile, though his voice was inaudible. Tweek struggled to make out the features-- the hair, the eyes, the brow, the curve of the nose. It was a blur._ _  
_ _  
_ _“You should be proud of yourself.” the words echoed in his head like a distant dream. “My little rainmaker.”_ _  
_ _  
_ His eyes shot open as he tripped over his own breath and faltered. His friends, whom had busied themselves with gleefully playing in the rain, were suddenly overcome with fear as the rain became jagged pellets of ice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new years my fellow degenerates.
> 
> This week's song: Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand.


	5. Chapter 5

Panic resided heavily in the air as the ice descended in droves. Tweek was speechless and scared all at once bewildered at what he was seeing, as the image of his friends skewered with holes sunk into his skull and refused to disperse.

In his stupor, he did not notice that Craig was shaking him. “Dude, snap the fuck out of it!”

It was thanks to Kyle’s defense that they were still alive. The wind he’d created swept the sicles into a narrow spiral, of which he quickly upended towards the sky. “Get out of here!” he shouted as the rest instinctively braced their necks and shoulders “I can’t hold it off that long!”

Looking up at the skylight, the way the sun glinted across every reflection of the ice created a misleadingly tranquil light that utterly dazzled the room. If it weren’t for the notably jagged spikes of death quite literally teetering above them, it would have been quite a sight to behold.

“Jimmy!” Wendy called, but found herself blown away by a sudden burst of air whipping past her before she’s completely finished.

“I’m o-o-on it,” he assured as he made his rounds around the group. Wendy gasped as she was swept into somebody’s arms- whom of which she could only guess, seeing as her rescuer was visible for no less than a millisecond- and hauled outside of the atrium. Clyde and Token were next and naturally dumbstruck, but banging on the glass as soon as they could catch their wits an effort to spare the rest from their demise.

“Tweek!” Clyde called, and Token followed suit. “Tweek! Wake up! Hey, Tweek!”

Craig was doing his best from his end, and per the last resort reeled his arm back as he found that there was no longer any good excuse to refrain from giving him a firm ‘wake up call’. Except before his fist connected, he too was suddenly displaced. “What the hell--”

The speed at which he’d traveled made him nauseous. He looked back, suddenly noticing that the only person left in the room was Kyle--

And then nobody, as Kyle appeared by his left, alongside a Jimmy that was suffering a considerable amount of exhaustion. Leaning on his crutches, he caught his breath and Kyle patted his shoulder appreciatively. “Thanks, man.”

Then with his attention fixed on the halestorm, dropped his hands and thereby commanded a vast downward sweep. Hundreds of layers of ice and hail littered the floor with their glittering shards, looking unassumingly pleasant in spite of the atrocities they’d nearly committed.

The sun’s magnified radiance seemed to quickly wear the ice down into several small puddles. Craig, and everyone else for that matter, turned towards Tweek.

Wide-eyed and suddenly acutely aware of his surroundings, Tweek looked around and asked in a voice that was notably unsteady, “Wh… What happened?”

Wendy nearly approached him, but bit her lip as she was sidestepped by Craig.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” he looked Tweek dead in the eye and in his reflection, Tweek saw an awfully pitiful version of himself that he was unable to look away from.

“I--” he began, stammering helplessly “I’m sorry!”

“You almost killed us, Tweek.” he took a step closer, and Tweek accordingly took a step back. “If Jimmy hadn’t been there, someone could have been seriously hurt, or worse and it would have been your fucking fault!”

“It… It was an accident!” he argued, though fully aware that nothing he could have said would alleviate the weight of what he’d almost done. “I.. I didn’t--”

“Uh, guys-” Token pointed in the general direction of the atrium, which remained closed off. The puddles had miraculously sprung back into misshapen piles of ice and hail and were shaking unsteadily.

Craig took note of the situation-- then turned back towards Tweek,

And reprimanded him with a stern shove. “Just get out of here, dude.”

Stumbling, Tweek was taken aback. Both by the dull pain in his arm and the glaring realization that all eyes were on him and right now, most of them were full of hate.

He picked himself up and backed away. “I’m sorry.” he offered weakly, and then again; “I’m… Really, agh… Really sorry.”

Then he turned away and ran down the corridor until he was completely gone.

Accordingly, the ice was dissipating into slivers of mist.

A dead silence overcame the remaining kids, who exchanged looks that varied between concern and rage and guilt. Except for Craig, of course, who was completely unreadable.

Wendy was the first to break the silence. “Guys… Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on Tweek?”

Clyde looked away uncomfortably, but Token spoke out as well. “Yeah, I mean it was an accident… Right?”

“Right!” Kyle said, although he too seemed a bit unnerved “But, uh…”

She threw her clenched fists down at her sides and stamped on the floor. “What is wrong with you guys?! So Tweek’s having a hard time right now. You all know that it was an accident, he would never intentionally do anything to put us in danger. Alienating him is only going to make it worse!”

Clyde couldn’t help the pang of guilt that arose in his chest. He wasn’t the one that had yelled at him, but somehow-- the fact that he hadn’t motioned to stop; had even found it the least bit satisfying… disgusted him.

“...Wendy’s r..r..right.” said Jimmy. “Craig? You’re an a...a….asshole.”

He stiffened and spun around, “What--”

“Yeah, dude, you were way too hard on Tweek.” Kyle admit “Kind of a dick move.”

“What.”

Token and Clyde were the first to make their exits, Clyde having had quite enough of whatever that commotion was, and Token departing with the excuse that he’d forgotten something in his room. “See ya later, guys. Later Wendy.”

“Bye, guys!” Wendy said, thereafter deciding that she, too, had had enough of the tension and made her way out the door. But not before passing Craig with an obligatory shoulder check.

“Ow! What the hell?!”

“Not cool, dude.” Kyle said. “Hey, Jimmy, wait up!”

And then there was one,

Who felt like the biggest prick in the world.

-

He’d milked every possible second of ‘free-time’ that he could, knowing full well that what he’d inevitably have to face at some point was waiting for him in his room. Likely pacing, stomping, punching holes into the wall or perhaps sharpening a blade as he lay in wait.

You deserve this. Look what you’ve done.

Those words wouldn’t stop echoing deep inside his head, in spite of the fact that absolutely no one had said them. And yet it was a voice as crystal clear as though it were being whispered into his ear and Tweek was incapable of either denying or silencing it.

It was true. He’d almost killed his friends, and Craig was fully entitled to want to kick his ass. Though that didn’t make it any less depressing.

He never thought he’d be forced to return to his room with the same amount of dread in his stomach that he usually reserved for encounters with Cartman. But his paradise had proved to be fallible after all.

He held his bracelet up to the door and beeped affirmatively, though the sound was almost sickening now as the door slid open. He skulked in quietly, making his way towards his bed with his head lowered towards his feet. If he counted all the cracks in the floor, again, he could pretend that nothing was wrong; that nobody hated him, and nothing was or would be painful ever again.

“Tweek.”

Alas, wishful thinking. He suppressed a shocked squeak.

“Tweek…” Craig was approaching him, and the thought of him crossing that invisible threshold sent a wave of panic down his spine.

He spun around and held his hand out; Craig halted in his place. “Stop! Do--Don’t come, ugh, any closer!”

“Stop it. I’m not gonna hurt you.” he said, though he refrained from getting closer.

“I don’t, ah! I don’t care about that, man, I- could hurt you!”

Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure that he trusted himself to be raising a hand towards Craig at all. He reluctantly pulled it back into himself and pressed his back against the wall; as physically far away from Craig as he could possibly manage to get within the limitations of their room.

“Geez… Seriously?” he sighed. Then rested his arm at his side as the other found his pocket. “I was being a prick, dude. That stuff I said back there… wasn’t cool.”

“So?” Tweek tensed. He hadn’t been even remotely in the market for an apology. “You-- ugh, you were right. I’m a menace. I almost hurt you guys. I could have killed someone! Th-There’s no way I could live with, agh, that! I’d lose it!”

Moreso than he’s already lost it, anyway.

Unconvinced, Craig took a step forward. Tweek straightened up like a feral cat. “Look, nobody got hurt..”

“Step away!” Tweek commanded.

Without warning, he flung his arms down at his sides and a burst of ice shot up from the ground at his feet. Craig backed away just in time, but was no less daunted by the sudden ‘wall’ that was sloppily erected on Tweek’s side of the room.

Dumbstruck, he could do little more than stand back and look at it-- What else was he to do?

The thought of punching through it had naturally occurred to him, and yet-- The look on Tweek’s face…

Well, he knew better.

Tweek, for that matter, looked… unsurprisingly distraught. His shoulders slumped; he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at his creation.

“...See?” he said, “It’s getting stronger, Craig… I… I can’t control it. I can’t do anything.”

Craig hadn’t seen a demeanor laced with such utter defeat since… Since…

He turned away. “Alright.” he relented. “I’ll leave you alone.”

The next hour consisted of what was perhaps the most uncomfortable silence he had ever experienced in the entirety of his short and unimpressive life. Nothing but the sound of ice thawing, minimal breathing and fingers tapping rapidly at the screen of his cellphone occasionally echoing off the walls.

He wondered how long Tweek planned on walling himself off.

Are you out of your fucking mind?! Craig was in Tweek’s place. Both on the inside and outside of the glass that divided them. The red-rimmed mirror that reflected someone who was wholeheartedly unimpressed with what he was seeing. Someone could have gotten hurt, and it would have been your fault! It would have been your fault!

It would have been your fault, Craig!

It’s your fault, Craig!

He snapped up at the familiarly stern pitch in his father’s throat as the words belted out, and the person he was seeing in the mirror was no longer Tweek or himself.

Dad? He tried to say, but found himself speechless. Incapable of doing little other than tapping at the mirror in an effort to get the words out. Express the right body language. Anything to tell him that he was sorry.

“You almost killed us, Craig.”

Dad. I’m sorry. The image of his father turning away burnt the edges of his mind; the mirror was gone, the only thing separating him from his father now was the wide and vacuous space between them.

He tried to pursue; but found all too quickly that his feet would not dare bring him forward.

“‘Sorry’, Craig.” his father said with his back turned. “I’m done with second chances.”

Wait.

Wait.

Damnit, wait!

Air burst into his lungs like a cold splash of water. Heaving and breathless he struggled to sort himself out for a moment, vaguely aware of only the fact that he was himself, sort of, and that his father was nowhere to be--

Tweek. Where was Tweek?

He noticed the wall of ice that had somehow doubled in size. What was formerly little more than a crude road bump had suddenly become a snow-crested fortress. “Tweek?” he wiped his eyes.

There was no response, though he wasn’t of the delusion that Tweek was in the mood to speak to him. And he couldn’t blame him.

“Tweek, I know you’re in there.” he stated with a passive sigh. “It’s fucking cold in here, dude. Take it down.”

Evidently Tweek was in the mood for the silent treatment.

And Craig was initially of the mindset that he could play that game and win--

...until the look on Tweek’s face imposed its way into his mind and lingered. The sadness, the betrayal, the terror--

“...I’m sorry, Tweek.” he said after several quiet moments. “I just… It… It wasn’t you, okay?”

He was aware that he was going to be speaking to a literal wall for the better half of that conversation, if not the entirety of it. But nonetheless, he persisted. “What I told you about how I ended up here. It was… sort of, only half the truth.”

Somehow, the wall made for a much more intimidating audience. Partially because he couldn’t help but picture what Tweek was doing back there. Silently crying his eyes out, sleeping, or curled up into a little ball of sadness. A ball that Craig created. A sad, sad little Tweek ball.

“I, uh..” he rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of how to retell the story without… completely shattering any semblance of trust that Tweek may have had left. “I know how it feels, to not know how to control your power...and stuff.”

Cool. Maybe be a little more sincere, jackass. Craig said-- to Craig.

“Look-” he straightened himself out “I fucked up. Alright? I don’t want to talk about it, but I feel like a huge piece of shit and now all of your friends hate me. I was wrong and stupid.”

He watched the wall, anxious for any sign of budging. To which he found none…

Except for the tiniest of thuds on the other side. But when the wall did not cease to be, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Craig stood up, hands clenched firmly at his sides and marched over to the wall.

He waited til he stood squarely in front of it-- and then proceeded to punch a hole through it.

Tweek squeaked in surprise as his impenetrable fortress was penetrated, and moved aside-- “Ah! Get, agh, get out of here!”

“Tweek. I just want to talk.” Granted, the fact that he looked as though he’d ripped off a scene from The Shining probably didn’t help his case, but his intentions were true. “Uh, in person.”

He hesitated, but allowed the fortress of ice to subside into a lame mound of snow. Craig was aware that he was going to need a change of shoes.

“...What do you want?” Tweek said.

Well, that hurt. “I told you; I just want to talk. I don’t…” he struggled with the proper way to phrase it.

Looking at Tweek, he knew immediately that he’d fucked up, per lack of better word. Was he a borderline psychotic McFlurry of disaster? Absolutely. But he was no Cartman. He would never intentionally hurt somebody.

He was no Craig.

“I don’t want you to hate me.” he admit.

Tweek looked… surprised, to say the least. But for the most part, it looked like he was biting back words.

“You don’t have to forgive me. I know, I’ve been a giant douche to you. I deserve it if you never talk to me again, but… I just wanted you to know. Okay?” he furrowed his brows in thought. “What happened back there… It wasn’t you. I wasn’t mad at you. I...just wanted you to know that.”

With a deep breath, he turned away from Tweek, when his sleeve was unexpectedly caught--

Tweek was looking right at him, eyes swelling with a crucible of emotions that he couldn’t quite place. But nonetheless, it stole his attention and would not relent.

“Th--” he hesitated, as if gauging Craig’s reaction. But he seemed to visibly swallow his nerves as he offered quietly, “Thank you… Craig.”

Craig was unable to describe the feeling of relief in his heart as the prospect of forgiveness dawned on him. Of not being hated by Tweek. How the others felt about him was still up in the air, of course-- But none of that seemed to matter anymore.

Yet at the same time, that relief was so satisfying, so rewarding that he was just a bit uncomfortable. Since when has he ever given a shit about what somebody thinks about him?

He’d yelled at lots of people. He yelled at his girlfriend, for god’s sake and hadn’t been troubled with even a fraction of the guilt when she’d cried in front of him. It was just a breakup. And this was just… an ‘outburst’.

There was nothing that made Tweek any different from Clyde or Token or anyone else, and yet--

He decided to leave that can of worms alone, and settle for his victory.

“Oh, uh…” he managed when he reached his bed, suddenly acutely aware that Tweek was just… sitting there. Across from him. “Turns out this place doesn’t completely suck. I found some co-op games on my phone… Wanna give it a shot?”

Tweek blinked once or twice with the slightest bit of confusion, and Craig couldn’t help but berate himself over how lame that was, and yet--

He smiled. “Sure.”

And sat himself on Craig’s right side, while he loaded up the app.

-

Dinner was bustling at its usual capacity and yet, Craig was noticing far less of it than usual. He normally couldn’t tear his attention away from the shitty food, the long, narrow tables and the audacity of the walls to look as though they were closing in on him. But now--

“And that was super cool! I had no idea that he was an unlockable character!”

Not that he’d been trying, but he’d managed to impress Tweek somehow and he wasn’t complaining. Because he was actually looking at him and the way his face lit up with pride every time he recounted one of the amazing things Craig had his character do, well…

It was just good. It was a good time.

It was even almost ‘fun’.

“That’s nothing. Wait til I tell Token about it; he’s gonna be so jealous.” he said. He was almost… excited. To see them at lunch. So much so that the prior week’s events had almost completely faded from his memory.

He’d been expecting more of a challenge when it came to winning them over, but it turned out that sharing his fries was more or less all it took. And suddenly he no longer wondered how Cartman had managed to integrate himself as a regular part of their group.

“Hey.” he approached the table and set his tray down. Tweek stood next to him and waited for the cue to take his seat, as sitting across from one another had sort of become second nature in the past few days.

...Oddly enough, nobody looked up from their trays. Actually-- most of their trays seemed nearly empty. On pizza day?

Something was definitely off. “Uh, what’s going on.”

Wendy was the first to look up from the table, and glance at Craig with a visibly pained expression. But she said nothing, and merely turned her head.

Okay-- Now he was worried.

“Guys?”

The tension was starting to affect Tweek as well. “Uh, guys, did we-- ugh, did we do something wrong?”

“God fucking damnit will someone tell them already?! There’s no point in keeping it from them!” Stan said, scaring Wendy with the quickness with which he’s sat up.

Tweek was just as startled, but all the more anxious to get filled in. “Wh-What do you mean?!”

“It’s…” Token began. “It’s Clyde.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my goal is to update once a week. RIP. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the likes and the reviews. Makes my day every time. Love ya. <3 
> 
> Song of the week: Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace.


	6. Chapter 6

“He…” Token struggled to even his breath, eventually relenting with a deep and heavy sigh. “He’s become  _ stupider _ .”    
  
From the end of the table, Clyde perked up with immediate indignation. “Hey! I’m being serious, it really hurts man!”    
  
“What, ah, what’s going on?” Tweek looked around. The atmosphere had become exceedingly less dreary, and he found that the look on their collective faces reflected less ‘mourning’ and more-so disappointment.    
  
“Bebe broke up with me!” he explained, “Why… Why would she do that?! We were getting along until… until a few weeks ago. I don’t understand what happened!”    
  
“Why don’t you just  _ ask  _ her.” Craig suggested.    
  
“I tried that, but she said she couldn’t tell me! Like, like I’d never understand or something! What’s with that?!” he threw his head between his arms and resumed his pitiful sobs.    
  
Wendy took a sip of her drink and poignantly rolled her eyes. As did the rest of his friends who were less-than-impressed with his theatrics.    
  
“S… Uh, sorry to hear that, man!” Tweek supplied carefully.    
  
“Wait…” Clyde perked up--  _ again,  _ and turned towards Wendy with a look in his eyes as if he were staring down the heavenly gates. “ _ You’re  _ a girl. You can tell Bebe to take me back!”    
  
“Not happening.”    
  
Never had Tweek seen the happiness deflate in somebody’s eyes so quickly.    
  
“But… But Wendy!”    
  
“Nope.” she idly shifted a fork through her food. “Girl code; I can’t do  _ anything  _ on behalf of the boyfriend. Sorry, Clyde!”    
  
She didn’t sound the least bit sorry. Nonetheless, with a sliver of optimism, he turned towards the one person he could  _ always  _ rely on. That person, of course, being his best buddy-- Token!    
  
“No.”    
  
Punching him right in the pancreas would have been less painful than the firm hand of rejection he was dealt.    
  
“But… But..!”    
  
“Sorry dude, Bebe kind of scares me. Besides, girls change their minds like that all the time--  _ especially  _ Bebe. She’ll probably take you back within a week.”    
  
As compelled as Wendy was to call him out on his little remark about women, she was consigned to the fact that Bebe  _ was  _ one of the more capricious friends she had.    
  
“You… You guys are mean!” The sobbing continued. “Where is your heart?! I  _ love _ Bebe! And I love her boobs, too! What am I supposed to do now?!”    
  
“Well… Th-Th..There is always your l-left hand.” Jimmy pointed out.    
  
On that notion, Clyde laid his head on the table and whined between sobs, “I wanna go home!”    
  
Tweek couldn’t help but pity him. There wasn’t much he could do to make it better, but he did offer a friendly pat on the shoulder. “There there...ugh, you’ll find someone!”    
  
“You… You really think so?” Clyde looked at him from the corner of his tear-soaked eye. Then; a glimmer of hope. “Wait… That’s it!”    
  
He jumped up from his seat and grabbed Tweek by the shoulders, startling him. “You don’t have to follow the ‘girl code’! The girls don’t even  _ know  _ you. You’re perfect!”    
  
Ouch. But he wasn’t wrong. “S-So?!”    
  
“So,” Clyde took both of Tweek’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “ _ You  _ can talk some sense into Bebe! She might listen to you. You’ve got that non-threatening feminine thing goin’ on!”    
  
“I...uh…”    
  
First of all, he had no idea what Clyde meant by that. Furthermore-- “Man, that is way too much pressure!”    
  
“You can do it, Tweek!” he insisted. “ _ And,  _ if you do this for me, I’ll completely forgive you for nearly killing us last week.”    
  
Okay, now he was just playing dirty. But… Looking around, Tweek realized that there were several pairs of eyes on him. If he didn’t help Clyde-- would they hate him even more?    
  
“F..agh! Fine! I’ll do it!”    
  
The weight of their stares didn’t ease up, but Clyde  _ did  _ embrace him tightly. “You’re the best!”    
  
“Agh…” he began to tug at the ends of his hair. Droplets of water collected around his feet in miniscule swirls, dampening the legs of his pants. “Ugh…!”    
  
A hand fell on his shoulder. “Ah!”    
  
He jumped, and Craig accordingly pulled away; the hand returning to his pocket. “Why didn’t you just say ‘no’.”    
  
It took a minute for the question to register, as if it hadn’t even occurred to him. But it most certainly did. It’s just that… “How… How could I? Clyde is right, I nearly k-killed everyone!! It’s the least...agh, least I could do--”    
  
“Uh-huh.” Craig opened Tweek’s palm. A clump of blonde hair resided between his white-clenched fingertips.    
  
“Agh…! There’s no way I can do this, C-Craig! What should I do?!”    
  
Craig considered several possible outcomes; then relented with a sigh. “...Look, you’re overthinking it. I’ll help you.”    
  
“R...Really?!” he hadn’t expected his heart to swell so rapidly at the prospect of help. But there he was, mouth agape like a floundered trout.    
  
“We’ll talk to Bebe, ask her to take Clyde back and bounce. That’s it.” he assured. “She’s not gonna bite your head off.”    
  
Well, he assumed she wouldn’t.    
  
“Y- You’re the best!” Tweek smiled, and Craig couldn’t help but be completely taken aback by the compliment. Praising his skills on some stupid mobile game was one thing, but did he  _ have  _ to make it sound so sincere?    
  
“....” He turned away, referring to Clyde. “So? Where can we find Bebe.”    
  
“Oh.” he swallowed a lump of food. “Easy; it’s the laundry room, but it’s the door to the left. Can’t miss it. She’s  _ always  _ there.”    
  
“And if she isn’t?”    
  
“Then she’s probably in the bathroom or something…” he said. Then gave them an accusatory stare, “And don’t you dare follow her in there! She may be hot, but I still call dibs!”    
  
“You called dibs and she  _ still  _ left you?” Wendy said, dripping with sarcasm. “That skank!”    
  
“I know, right?!”    
  
Someone threw a french fry at him. It bounced off his forehead and into his tray. He took it upon himself to eat it. And on that note, Craig and Tweek unanimously decided to leave the cafeteria.    
  
-   
  
The hallways had the tendency to be uncomfortable narrow. As such, they’d no choice but to walk side by side and occasionally bump elbows with one another. Tweek mumbled apologizes everytime he caught himself doing it, but Craig ignored it altogether.    
  
“Th-Thanks for, agh. Thanks for coming with me. I seriously don’t know what I would have done on my own!” he said, and seeing as he immediately began to chew on his fingers, Craig figured the endeavor would have been considerably less fruitful.    
  
Besides-- Tweek wasn’t the worst person to be stuck doing a menial chore with.    
  
“Right… So, do you have a hard time talking to chicks or something?”    
  
“T-Talking to chicks?” he’d never thought about it that way. Well, he didn’t speak to many chicks… With the exception of Wendy, but did she really count as a chick? “Ah… I, I guess?”    
  
Craig made a mental note of that, and proceeded down the hall silently. Tweek couldn’t help but wonder if he’d said something wrong, or lame, or both. Looking at Craig, he noticed a few things-- The broadness of his shoulders, his dark hair, the fact that his skin was smooth and that he was quite tall. He was no expert, but he came across as someone who had no trouble with girls whatsoever.    
  
Yeah, he probably thought that Tweek was super fucking lame. And he couldn’t blame him.    
  
“W-Well, maybe it’s everybody…?” he reasoned.    
  
“I’m guessing this is the laundry room.” he said, directing his attention towards a door that was adorned with a plaque depicting a washing machine and some clothing. As well as a sign that read  _ No Fornication Please!  _ And a handwritten note below it that added,  _ McCormick is No Longer Allowed inside Unsupervised.  _ _  
_ _  
_ Somehow, he felt like there was a story attached to that. Nonetheless, he opened the door and sure enough, rows and rows upon washers and dryers layered the room, as well as chairs and tables for those who took it upon themselves to wait. It was empty at present, with the exception of some machines in the midst of a spin cycle.    
  
“Th-There?” Tweek pointed to a door on the left hand side of the room. It wore a similar plaque, except that instead of a washer, dryer or clothing- it was a sewing machine.    
  
They headed into the room, Craig following Tweek inside.    
  
That room was considerably smaller, with long, rectangular tables that took up a fair amount of space and covered almost every wall. Every table was more or less unoccupied with the exception of one, smack in the middle of the furthest wall.    
  
A young woman with long, blonde hair and a red coat sat with her back turned towards the door. “Who is it?”    
  
“U-Uh…” he stammered. “Tweek. It’s… Tweek?”    
  
“Uh- _ huh _ .” she seemed… unimpressed. “Let me guess. Clyde sent you?”    
  
“How’d you, ugh, how’d you know?” he asked.    
  
“What, like this is the first time I’ve broken up with Clyde? A girl can’t be tied down forever, sheesh! And you can tell Clyde that!” she insisted. She spun half-way around in her chair to face him with a serious look.    
  


That was when she laid eyes on Craig. And could her jaw have dropped any further, it would have been on the floor. “Wow… Who’s your  _ friend,  _ Tweek?”    
  
“This is… agh! This is Craig.” the introduction he offered was shaky at best. Craig wasn’t even looking in her direction.    
  
“Wow, I haven’t seen  _ you  _ before. You must be new here!” she folded her hands in her lap, momentarily forgetting the fabric-riddled workspace behind her.    
  
“Right… Not that I care, but we’re kind of supposed to ask you why you broke up with Clyde.”    
  
She hummed to herself thoughtfully. “You  _ really  _ wanna know..?”    
  
“Not really-”    
  
“Y-Yes please!” Tweek interrupted.    
  
“Not. Telling.”    
  
His face fell, and he couldn’t imagine why she was smiling like that, nor what he’d done to deserve her wrath. Perhaps bringing Craig was a mistake after all? “What? Why!”    
  
“It’s none of your business.” she stated plainly, and for a moment it seemed she’d just leave things like that.    
  
Until her eyes swelled with shameless opportunity. “ _ Unless _ …” she folded her arms, then pointed at them. “You two are willing to help me with something.”    
  
“Seriously?”    
  
“Like, ah, what?”    
  
Bebe reached behind her and pulled a piece of fabric from her pile. “You know, working on my collection is fun and all. But it’s just not the same without a strong pair of models!”    
  
“No way.”    
  
“Then no deets.” she threatened.    
  
Tweek bit his nails, then pulled Craig aside briefly. “I promised Clyde, man! If-If I don’t do this, he’ll hate me!”    
  
“I doubt it. Besides, it’s not like it matters-- he’s probably over it already.”    
  
“Craig!” Tweek looked up at him with hopeless desperation. “Please, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. I don’t want to mess this up. I, ah! I can’t make another mistake, man!”    
  
He found himself avoiding Tweek’s gaze. It was trivial, but to outright deny his request seemed a bit… excessive. And…    
  
It’s not like it was the  _ worst  _ thing in the world.    
  
He folded his arms and relented with a very drawn out sigh. “.... _ Fine. _ ”    
  
“Really?!” his eyes lit up “Thank you, so much, Craig!”    
  
“Whatever.” he rolled his eyes, then addressed Bebe sternly. “But you’d better take Clyde back.”    
  
“I’ll consider it.” she said, “But I think I’ll have a clearer mind, once I get some pics for coonstagram!”    
  
“What the  _ hell  _ is a coonstagram--”    
  
“Wow, you really  _ are _ new here.” she explained briefly, “Everyone knows we can’t access  _ real  _ social media sites in here, but the director was kind enough to provide us with his very own knock-offs! Serves most of the same functionality of the original app, except it exclusively functions within the facility.”    
  
“That’s so fucking lame…”    
  
“Whatever, I’ve  _ still  _ got my followers to think about. So try these on and  _ smile _ !” she approached the boys with an armful of clothing. At first glance they looked like nothing more than misshapen lumps of fabric, but…    
  
She raised a piece in front of Craig and shut one eye, humming thoughtfully. “Let’s see… Oh, I know!”    
  
A snap of her fingers caused the fabric to expand into what appeared to be several different articles of clothing. “The theme will be ‘love’!”    
  
“ _ Ugh _ .”    
  
“There’s a bathroom out in the laundry room.” she suggested, “Go ahead and change in there, Tweek. But you’re free to change wherever you want, Craig!”    
  
“Yeah, I’ll pass.” he begrudgingly accepted the clothes he was handed and headed off to the bathroom. Tweek followed behind him warily, with an equally intimidating wardrobe.    
  
“God.” Bebe said, keeping a keen eye on Craig as he walked away. “Now  _ that’s  _ a nice ass.”    
  
-   
  
A brief intermission ensued before Tweek returned, visibly stiff.    
  
First of all, Tweek had the misfortune of being asphyxiated from the waist down by a pair of torn-legged skinny jeans that pronounced his body in ways that he’d never thought possible. And quite frankly, having it captured on camera made him less-than-thrilled to be in this situation in the first place. Up top, an oversized t-shirt with the letters L and O scrawled across his chest in smooth, black script.    
  
To top it all off, his jacket was bright pink and way too lose! There was nothing practical about his outfit whatsoever, and it was uncomfortable, and tight! “Ugh! I can’t do this!”    
  
“Suck it up buttercup.” she took the liberty of running a brush through his hair. It didn’t do much to ease the stray strands, but at the very least the way it was parted made some sort of sense.    
  
The door opened and Craig slid in, stone-faced and wholly unamused. “This is  _ so  _ stupid.”    
  
“Last I checked,  _ you  _ guys were the ones that interrupted me over something that was none of your business in the first place! So pipe down and do exactly what I say.” she left no room to argue. She then proceeded to sift through her backpack and pull from it a smaller bag, of which she retrieved a digital camera.    
  
Tweek took a look at Craig out of curiosity. And… quite frankly,  _ wow.  _   
  
His jeans were baggy, lower on his hips and frayed as opposed to the unnecessarily conspicuous tears across Tweek’s. His shirt was tighter on his chest and mimicked the other in design, except that the letters it displayed were ‘V’ and ‘E’. Instead of a hot-pink monstrosity draped over his shoulders, there was a dark-blue hoodie wrapped around his waist. And perhaps the most peculiar part of his outfit--    
  
Was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his hat.    
  
He’d never really gotten a good look at Craig’s hair, before-- Or, maybe he just hadn’t noticed. But it was smooth, and parted in the same direction, and suffered from a bit of hat hair but wasn’t nearly as unmanageable as Tweek’s!    
  
The envy looming in the pit of his stomach made him all the more uncomfortable.    
  
“Ready!” Bebe set her camera aside as she gave the boys her specific directions. “We’ll start with something simple. Just stand side-by-side and smile. Think you can handle it?”    
  
“Whatever.” Craig blew a tuft of his bangs out of his eyes.    
  
Tweek was practically already there, so he didn’t feel the need to move-- until Bebe urged him to get closer. “I need you  _ both  _ in the frame, Tweek.”    
  
“H..Here?” he asked, warily approaching Craig’s left side until they were practically elbow to elbow.    
  
“Sure, whatever. Craig? Put your arm around him.”    
  
“Are you  _ serious _ ?” he groaned. Tweek half expected him to call the deal off right then and there; needless to say, he was doubly surprised when Craig actually did it, and rested his arm across his shoulder.    
  
Being that close without a game in between them was something that Tweek wasn’t used to. He wondered how Craig was handling it so patiently…    
  
“Perfect!” Bebe took pictures from several angles, and then moved the camera away.    
  
Breathing a premature sigh of relief, Tweek prepared to remove his jacket when-    
  
“Wait! We aren’t done yet.”    
  
“Huh?”    
  
“Oh  _ come on _ .”    
  
Their complaints fell on deaf ears, as she adjusted the settings on her camera in preparation of a new set. “Don’t be such a  _ baby _ . You’ll be fine!”    
  
That said, the boys couldn’t exactly protest. With no other choice, they awaited her instructions. Craig remembering, eventually, to take his arm away from Tweek.    
  
“Craig, I need you to wrap your arms around Tweek’s waist and lay your head on his shoulder.”    
  
“Are you fucking kidding me.”    
  
“Just do it!” she demanded.    
  
Tweek heard the quiet groan and pitied him. Furthermore, he wanted to make things as painless as possible, but just didn’t quite know how to do it. Standing as still as a statue had never been so difficult.    
  
He looked down at his feet in the event that it would make things easier-- but evidently, he was wrong. He felt Craig’s body pressed gently against his back, and soon after found that his arms were slipped around his waist as instructed. He hadn’t expected Craig to  _ actually  _ hold him like that--    
  
The worst had yet to come, until Craig finally lowered his head and rested his chin on the crook of Tweek’s shoulder.    
  
_ “Sorry.” _ he whispered.    
  
Due to a misfortunate combination of several things, Tweek suppressed a nervous shriek. But the more he kept his mouth firmly shut, the harder it was to keep his palms from shaking.    
  
“Don’t just stand there,” Bebe chided “Hold Craig’s arms!”    
  
Why had he ever considered being nice to Clyde?! Was it really worth the forgiveness!    
  
“Ah!” he clumsily placed his hands across the space where Craig was holding onto his waist. His palms continued to shake, but for their sake he just hoped it wouldn’t interfere with the picture.   
  
“ _ You don’t have to be so nervous-”  _ he advised.    
  
Tweek couldn’t even begin to communicate how  _ not helpful  _ that was.    
  
“Great! Looking good, guys!” Bebe, who was looking quite pleased with herself, praised as she filled her camera’s memory with several more pictures.    
  
At some point the boys were given permission to relinquish their pose, and Tweek couldn’t help but notice how warm his skin was. As if Craig’s body heat continued to radiate through him.    
  
“C-Can we be done now?!” he begged.    
  
“Ugh,  _ fine _ .” she relented, “One more picture and you’re free to go.”    
  
“Oh, thank God…” he muttered.    
  
“Let’s make this a good one.” she decided. She scanned the room for a moment until something caught her attention. “Oh! Here,” she dragged a stool away from its table and slid it towards them.    
  
“Craig, sit.”    
  
Craig sat and waited, watching the clock on the wall as it dragged its heels.    
  
“Tweek, sit on Craig’s lap.”    
  
_ “What?! _ ” they said unison.    
  
“Are you nuts? Like there’s room on this thing for Tweek to sit!”    
  
Tweek seconded that. “I-If I fall, I’ll probably crack my, agh, skull open!”    
  
“Tweek…” Bebe took a deep breath. Then exhaled in a tone that seemed to echo throughout the entire ward. “Sit!”    
  
He jumped and stumbled to find an appropriate way to do as she was suggesting, but the longer he looked between the stool and Craig’s lap, the less inclined he was to do it. There was no way. He had to draw a line somewhere!    
  
“Hurry up.” Craig complained.    
  
As helpful as that was, Tweek was at a loss. “How am I supposed to get up there?!”    
  
Seriously, stools were not oriented to hold more than one buttocks. And there was no way that Bebe wasn’t aware of that.    
  
“Look, just…” Craig sighed. When it looked like he’d reached the peak of his irritation, he leaned forward and seized Tweek by his waist and elbow. Tweek instinctively cried out as he was quite literally lifted into Craig’s lap and held in place.    
  
Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down! Is what he kept chanting to himself inside of his little, swirling head.    
  
“Quit shaking--” Craig said, adjusting his grip. “You’re not gonna fall.”    
  
“How do you know that!” he argued.    
  
“Just sit still, alright?!”    
  
“Agh!” He sat as still as he could physically sit without squirming, but it was much easier said than done.    
  
“Hold that pose and smile! That means you, Craig.” she poised the camera in front of her face. The boys forced the best fake-genuine smile they could muster in a combined effort to get the whole mess over and done with.    
  
“Good… Great… Good!” she took another couple pictures until she was at least relatively satisfied, and  _ finally--  _ “Wait!”    
  
They both suppressed the urge to groan.    
  
“Tweek, turn your head- yes, like that! Craig? Look at Tweek. Like you mean it!”    
  
If it weren’t the cherry on top of the rotten cake, Craig’s features were admittedly attractive; and it made him all the more difficult to look at. He wasn’t the type of person who would want someone like Tweek on his lap, and he knew that-- he only hoped that Craig wouldn’t resent him too strongly afterwards. Especially when they’d finally come so far!    
  
He looked into his eyes, noticing for the first time that they were actually a shade of amber, as opposed to the chocolate-brown color he’d initially suspected. It reminded him of Autumn. How the trees would shade their leaves, darken the Colorado sky with a sunset-glow at early evenings, how the wind would pulsate through his hair. He recalled the feeling of freedom.    
  
_ “Tweek, don’t go too far.” his mother said.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Be home before dark, son! And remember what we talked about.”  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “Don’t go with strangers…”  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ That’s what they’d told him, but as far as he knew, they spoke to strangers all the time. Or maybe they weren’t strangers because of how often they were around. But they never really talked much except to exchange whatever it was that they were holding and go their separate ways. So what was the difference between them and any old stranger?  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Were strangers better if they wore nice suits, even if they looked mean?  _ _  
_ _  
_ He was in the midst of piecing together a face when his eyes shot open and he lost his balance. “Agh!” he leaned back and cringed at the inevitable impact, but-- felt that he was restrained.    
  
As a matter of fact, Craig was a bit closer than he recalled and held his back, though he seemed to be struggling. “Dude--”    
  
His breathing evened out when he registered what had actually happened, and felt his face flush with embarrassment. “Ah, s-sorry! Craig…”    
  
Craig looked at him, wearing an expression that he couldn’t quite place, but eventually turned his head. “I think we’re done here.” he said, helping Tweek off his lap before he stood up.    
  
“Aw, already?” Bebe sighed. “Well, whatever… A deal’s a deal.”    
  
She set the camera aside and approached Craig slowly, fishing something out of her pocket in the meanwhile. Craig watched her warily-- taking a tentative step back as she drew closer, until he was practically rooted up against the wall.    
  
The closer she was, the more overwhelming the scent of her perfume. He wondered how Clyde could breathe it in for more than a few minutes without vomiting, but ultimately decided that his mind was probably almost as one-track as hers seemed to be.    
  
“Can I help you?”    
  
“You wanna know the reason I broke up with Clyde?” she said, fingers crawling up his shirt.    
  
“Uh…”    
  
“I was interested in somebody else.” she explained.  “Somebody… stronger,” she slid her hands across his arms and wrapped them around his neck. “Someone who could  _ really  _ rock my world.”    
  
“Uh-huh.” he couldn’t do much with his hands other than keep them in his pockets.    
  
Bebe wrapped a leg around his waist and offered with a sly smile, “Why don’t you forget about Clyde. I’m single, y’know. It doesn’t have to be anything serious.”    
  
“So you broke up with Clyde because you’re into someone else.” he stated.    
  
She sighed, primarily at the straightforwardness in which he’d uttered that. As if her hints had either flown right over his head or were being ignored entirely. One way or another-- she was offended. “Take a  _ hint _ , Craig. Clyde was the hottest guy here until you showed up. Can you blame me for being open minded?”    
  
“Actually,” he pulled his hat out of her hands, which surprised her. “Yeah. I can.”    
  
He gently coerced her away with his arm until he had enough space to slide out of the room. “Come on, Tweek.”    
  
“Wait!” she called. “Can you at least tell me why?!”    
  
A twinge of irritation rose in his brow, but he paused at the door, long enough to glance in her direction with a blank stare. “Not interested. Besides-- There’s no way I’m tying myself down in  _ this  _ shithole. You might be okay with being locked up in here like a guinea pig, but as soon as I can get out of here, I’m  _ out _ .”    
  
With her hands on her hips, she rolled her eyes. “Whatever. That’s what they  _ all  _ say. But sooner or later,” she said “You’ll realize that this place is the  _ best  _ place for people like us to exist.”    
  
He politely reciprocated with a middle finger.    
  
“Fine!” the door slammed shut behind them, and Bebe was left to scream at leisure. “Clyde is way cuter anyway!”    
  
-   
  
Down the hall, Tweek and Craig were back to their outfits and back to the habit of bumping shoulders every so often. Although it was considerably less awkward now, and neither of them bothered to apologize anymore.    
  
“Uh… Good, agh, good work! I-I mean you were really cool, man!” Tweek offered.    
  
Craig acknowledged the compliment with a vaguely distracted hum. “I guess.”    
  
“Y-You’re way more photogenic than I am…” he admit. Not that he cared to think too much about the fact that those pictures would exist forever--    
  
“Oh… Thanks.” he said.    
  
Tweek couldn’t quite place whether or not he’d gone too far, and that made him anxious. So very anxious. “Right..agh… uh… Can I ask you something?”    
  
“I guess so.”    
  
“Why did you reject Bebe? Isn’t she, like, agh, super pretty?” he suspected, anyway. He had a hard time judging these things, but of all the women he’d heard gossip about, he was vaguely aware that the boys tended to have a preference for her and her… ‘assets’.    
  
“What, am I supposed to like her just ‘cause she’s hot?”    
  
Tweek cringed. “N-No, that’s not what I meant!”    
  
He rolled his eyes. “People like Bebe are a pain in the ass. Because of my face, they think I’ve gotta be some kind of casanova or whatever.”    
  
“What do you, ah, what do you mean?”    
  
“I mean, girls like Bebe believe what they want and when I don’t live up to it, they get disappointed. I don’t really mind, though.” he shrugged. “To be honest, I never really liked wasting my time with that stuff.”    
  
“With, ugh, dating? O-Or girls?”    
  
“Both, I guess.” Not that he hadn’t been the victim of some odd dates here and there, but he’d never really pursued them for any sort of purpose outside of ‘giving it a shot’. And for the most part, every ‘date’ he’s ever been on has either turned out unremarkable or entirely disappointing.    
  
Then again, he supposed it was something that was probably wrong with him, as opposed to the girls he’s gone out with.    
  
“...What about you.”    
  
Tweek hesitated, then sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Ah… I, uh, don’t know how to talk to girls. People like Bebe are… ugh, overwhelming, I- I guess?”    
  
He granted Tweek with a bored hum. “So… You and Wendy…”    
  
“W-Wendy?” his head perked up with utter shock and disbelief. “No way! There’s no way! Agh! S-Sorry… It’s just… she’s kind of, like a sister?”    
  
Admittedly, Craig hadn’t been expecting the vehement rejection Tweek had given him. And in some ways, found it rather… relieving? In the sense that he wasn’t going to have to deal with any such nonsense on Tweek’s behalf, of course.    
  
Too many people were looking for love these days anyways. Would it hurt to be satisfied with being single?    
  
“B..Besides.” he added, “You’re easier to talk to…”    
  
Craig decided to take that with a grain of salt. He also suppressed the instinct to tell Tweek the same thing.    
  
Then he bumped into somebody. “Oh, my bad-- Clyde?”    
  
“Clyde!” Tweek turned towards him, “We found out why Bebe--”    
  
Except that Clyde neither looked at nor so much as acknowledged the fact that either of them had said anything at all. His head hung low and the way he walked, it almost seemed as though he were dragging himself down the hall with movements that were both unnatural and extremely uncharacteristic for his usual swagger.    
  
“Clyde…?” Tweek called out after him, but he merely turned down the hall and hobbled off in that direction.    
  
“Uh--” Craig couldn’t help but notice that something was  _ definitely  _ off. “Isn’t he being a little… dramatic?”    
  
“I’ve never seen him get this way over a breakup before…” Tweek said.    
  
They continued down the hall, unable to shake the feeling of discomfort presiding between them after that ‘encounter’. When footsteps eventually pad down the hall at a rapid pace, and nearly collide into the both of them.    
  
“Woah!” Tweek cringed at the near impact, but Token stopped just in time.    
  
He let out an exasperated sigh, seemingly out of breath as he leaned on Tweek for support. “Which...way… did Clyde go.”    
  
“Uh, that way.” Craig pointed in the opposite direction, and Token clutched his arm. 

  
“What’s going on?” Tweek asked.    
  
“Yeah, what’s his deal?”    
  
Token doubled over for a minute, eyes wavering. Until he finally found the courage to straighten up and face Tweek. “It’s… It’s bad.”    
  
“His mother… she… there was an accident, and…” He took a deep breath. “She’s… She’s _gone._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha :) I figured I'd include a nice, long chapter before things get bad. 
> 
> This week's/chapter's song: War of Change - Thousand Foot Krutch.
> 
> I'm eventually going to compile all of the songs used to inspire/in relation to each chapter into one playlist, but doing it now would be result in some spoilers. :)


	7. Chapter 7

“What?” Token’s mouth was agape. “He can’t go  _ home? _ ” 

 

The look of dismay in their eyes weighed heavily on Mackey’s shoulders, and they knew he was sweating. Yet he still had the audacity to air out his collar and say with as much false confidence as he could muster, “I-I’m afraid it’s against our policy. Mmkay? It says so in the-” 

 

“Fuck the contract!” Stan insisted, “His mom is  _ dead _ , dude! You’re not even gonna let him attend the fucking funeral?!” 

 

“It-It really isn’t that simple, mmkay-” Per the frustration in their eyes, it was safe to assume that they weren’t particularly interested in his reasoning. Even so, “I’m sorry, mmkay. My hands are tied, mmkay? Mr. Conner was very,  _ very  _ clear about this…” 

 

“How  _ dare  _ you.” Wendy said, increasing his discomfort exponentially as she placed herself front and center of the small gathering, hands firmly pressed on her hips. “As a counselor, you should be ashamed of yourself! You of all people should know how important it is to have some kind of closure in these situations. If you forbid Clyde from attending that funeral, he will regret it for the rest of his life!”    
  
“Yeah!” they cried. 

 

“L-look here now, mmkay! I have, I have put my foot down and… What?” he looked up towards the source of some invisible sound, that the kids were evidently unable to hear. “R-Right away, I’ll be there soon! Uh, gotta run. Stay out of trouble, mmkay?” 

 

Before they could protest his incredibly convenient departure, he had already left them in his dust. And they were forced to regard each other with demeanors mixed with anger and defeat.

 

“Great…” Kyle sighed. “ _ Now  _ what. Clyde was counting on us!” 

 

“I told you it wouldn’t work.” Stan interjected. “They don’t give a shit about us. The only reason they deal with us at all is ‘cause that’s what they get paid to do. Even Mr. Mackey could care less about what Clyde’s going through!” 

 

“Stan, how could you say that?!” Wendy’s frown deepened. 

 

“Yeah, Stan, your pessimistic bullshit really isn’t helping anybody right now!” 

 

“What the fuck would  _ you  _ know, Kyle?!” 

 

Token wound up placing himself between the two of them, separating them with each arm tentatively pressed against their chests. “Guys, stop! This isn’t important right now. What’s important is that… is that we figure out what we’re gonna say to Clyde.” 

 

“What  _ can  _ we say to Clyde?” Stan said. “This whole situation is  _ fucked _ .” 

 

Though Kyle met his remark with a side-eyed glare, the others couldn’t help but concede.    
  
-

 

It was both concerning and a slight relief when the sobbing had finally stopped echoing off the interior of the dorm. Though they could not be there to witness it themselves, they were more than privy to the fact that Clyde had sat himself in front of the door to cry and had not stopped in well over an hour. So when the throes of grief settled for a moment, they were half-convinced that he’d either run his voice out, or fallen asleep right there. 

 

“C...C...Clyde?” Jimmy tapped the door with the foot of his crutch, and the rest stood by in cautious anticipation. 

 

“ _ Go away. _ ” was the soft, somewhat hoarse response that carried through the crack of the door. 

 

“Cl-Clyde?” Tweek rapped on the door gently. “I, ah, I know this won’t help, but, ah…” 

 

He hesitated, the realization that no amount of kind words or encouragement could possibly ease the pain he was enduring at that moment. And just as he thought he was going to sweat himself through his skin, several footsteps appeared down the hall’s long corridor. 

 

“How’d it go?” Craig asked. 

 

“Clyde…” Token was the first to approach the door. 

 

Evidently, that stirred up the fire in Clyde, because by the sounds of it he’d jumped to his feet and immediately began pounding on the wall. “Token! What did Mackey say. Can I go home yet?!” 

 

“Clyde…” Wendy began, but Token outstretched a hand that caused her to pause; he made his intentions clear.  _ He  _ was going to be the bearer of bad news. 

 

“...No, man. I’m sorry.” 

 

Silence loomed for a moment, Token’s mouth falling open with the impulse to repeat himself. That was when the door jolted with a deafening  **bang** . 

 

“But it doesn’t matter.” 

 

Suddenly, all eyes were on token. Like he’d just broken some unspoken social cue. But he persisted, “We’re going to get you home to your family.”   
  
“Yeah.” Stan said, “Screw Mr. Mackey!”    
  
_ “Hold on _ . _ ”  _ Their attention was suddenly redirected towards the hall, where Timmy rolled himself down, alongside Thomas, whom Tweek was pleasantly surprised to see.  _ “You musn’t be rash about this. Clyde, I know that you’re angry. But you know not of the consequences you may incur by doing this.”  _

 

“I don’t care!” he shouted, his fist slamming harshly against the metal frame. “I don’t care if they never let me back into this stupid place again, I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my life working as some kind of  _ freak show _ . Just let me see my mom!” 

 

“Timmy…” there was a solemn tone to his voice, but he made no effort to press the argument further.    
  
Kyle swallowed a vaguely nervous gulp; like he was talking about something inappropriate, and in a way, he was. What they were referring to was in fact the ultimate taboo, after all. “But, guys… Remember what happened last time? How are we supposed to pull this off..” 

 

“We’ll find a way.” Wendy said. “We’ve all been here long enough- Well, most of us,” she corrected, sparing a brief glance at Craig “We know every crevice of this place. We know the routines, the staff, the schedule-- There’s bound to be something we can do. Not just for Clyde… but for all of us.” 

 

“All of us?” he echoed. 

 

She gave a heavy nod. “Think about it… If it happened to Clyde, why can’t it happen to any of  _ us _ ?” 

 

As soon as the question was posed, the mood shifted to overall unease. Truthfully, it wasn’t something they’d thought about before this; having always blindly assumed that exceptions would be made in the event of an emergency. But now that the error of their naivety was solidified it made the truth… rather ugly. 

 

“...She’s right.” Kyle said, and Stan nodded in agreement. “It  _ could  _ happen to… any one of us.” 

 

“Then it’s settled.” Token said. “We have… We have no choice. If we want to help Clyde, we  _ all  _ have to be willing to take some risks. So…” he looked around the group. “Who’s in?” 

 

Unsurprisingly, Clyde made his intentions known with another loud tap on the door, frantically shouting, “Me!” 

 

Understandably, Stan and Kyle were the next to fall in, alongside Wendy and Jimmy. Though Timmy regarded the group with some apprehension, he ultimately relented with a drawn-out sigh,  _ “I suppose, for Clyde’s sake…”  _ Then, his gaze fell on Craig and Tweek.  _ “And you? Craig, you don’t know us very well, so I hardly expect you to go out of your way, but…”  _

 

“I’m in.” he said, with such blatant certainty  that Tweek was nearly caught off guard. Yet-- had he any right to be? Was it not plainly obvious from the beginning that Craig wanted little to do with this place? 

 

He kept that in mind as all eyes were suddenly on him, and he felt himself shake. Craig looked at him like he, too, was expectant of his answer, but the suddenness of it all unnerved him. Admittedly, it wasn’t the first time he’d considered leaving-- and, while the prospect of his friends accompanying him to freedom was pleasant in theory…    
  
He couldn’t deny that his heart wasn’t entirely swayed. 

 

But nevertheless. “Y..Yeah!” 

 

His eyes habitually fell towards Craig, where he nearly convinced himself that he’d caught him in the midst of a slight smile, but dismissed it offhand. Wishful thinking, at best, that Craig would be even remotely invested in Tweek’s decision.

 

“Then it’s settled.” Token smiled. “We’ll come up with a plan tonight; the usual spot. If we work together, we should be out of here by tomorrow morning.”    
  
“The usual spot?” Thomas asked.    
  
A few eyes passed him over, as if barely acknowledging the fact that he was there. But Token reassured him with a nod, “The atrium gets locked every night before ten, before light out. Usually, that time is spent on evening showers and stuff like that, but since most of the staff is asleep by then, it’s the best time to slip out.” 

 

They nodded, the newfound looks of determination evident on their faces, even as the voice that had become eerily too-familiar resounded over the intercom.  _ “It is now 3:00. The residents of Ward C may now return to their rooms. I repeat, the…”  _

 

Token bid them all a silent farewell, slipping into the dorm he shared with Clyde now that the door would finally respond to the flash of his bracelet. As Craig made his way towards the hall, Tweek paused to regard Thomas warmly. “It-- It’s been a while!” he said. 

 

Thomas blinked at him, then reciprocated with a gentle smile. “Yeah.. agh, how are you doing Tweek?” 

 

“Agh, uh…” he hesitated, but eventually managed- “B-Better? How about you, man--? I was totally worried!” 

 

“I’ve just, uh, been around… To- To tell you the truth…” something seemed to weigh on him. He clasped his hands together. “I’ve been kind of… scared.” 

 

“Scared..?” Tweek was listening intently, now, and the concern only grew. 

 

“Y-Yeah… It’s just… ah, nevermind. It’s stupid.” he turned away. 

 

Before Tweek could ask him what he meant by that, he was already walking away with a conclusive wave. “See ya later, Tweek!” 

 

Tweek hesitated, unsure of whether or not to act on his impulse to pry or let it be, as he figured was best. For a moment, he thought back to Token. When it came to helping his friend, he was quick to throw everything on the line and forego reasoning, logic, etc…    
  
Wouldn’t that be nice.    
  
Still, he couldn’t help the feeling that something else had gone awry. Like he was missing a crucial piece of whatever puzzle he’d invented in his head; an itch that refused to let him be at peace. But seeing as he could justify this sensation with little else but the same paranoia that had conjured up the gnomes (and the crab people, that one time)- he was forced to let it subside. 

 

“Tweek.” Craig’s voice snapped him out of whatever hole he’d nearly dug himself into; he turned towards him quickly, and sheepishly straightened up. 

 

“C-Coming!” 

 

-   
  
Mr. Mackey shut the door, a sigh of relief escaping his lips all too soon.    
  
It wasn’t until a crisp voice broke the silence in the air that he jumped to alertness at the other presence in the room.    
  
“Good evening, Mackey.”    
  
A tall man stood at his desk, rummaging through the paper’s he’d meant to attend to, before the… ordeal, happened.    
  
  
“G-Good evening, sir.” he said. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”    
  
“I thought I’d drop by.” Mr. Conner flitted through the stack of papers in his hands; Mackey inwardly cringed, wondering how long it was going to take to reorganize the paperwork that were now bunched together in one neat pile. “Check in, see how things are going, etcetera.”    
  
“Ah, Well, in that case…” he hesitated. There was a certain awkwardness that was prevalent whenever he and Mr. Conner were in the same room; it was an odd, uncomfortable sensation, akin to watching a movie with your parents amid the sudden sex scene. “Nothing to report here, sir… Mmkay…” 

 

Conner laid the stack on the table and wound his hands behind his back, approaching Mackey with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Mackey.” 

 

Mackey suppressed the instinct to back away, reminding himself that- demeanor aside- Conner was actually fairly benign compared to some of the other employers he’s had. Most of which were a bit too… intense.

 

“We should discuss something.”    
  
Suddenly, the possibility of having commit any fireable offense occurred to him- but paranoia aside, he couldn’t come up with anything that he’d done (in recent years)... “Like, uh.. Like what, sir?” 

 

“I was made aware that there was a death in the Donovan family recently.” he said. Mackey nodded, though he seemed certain enough on his own. “And you informed the boy of the passing, correct?”    
  
“Er… Yes, sir.” he fretted for a moment that he’d been wrong-- maybe the policy  _ was  _ flexible in the event of an emergency.    
  
“In the future, don’t do that.”    
  
“...Sir?” he refrained from rubbing his ears, wary that it might set off a rude impression. But he genuinely wasn’t sure if he’d heard him correctly--    
  
“I appreciate your concern on Clyde’s behalf, but if you keep the children up to date with every little thing that might happen at home, you’re defeating the purpose of having a no-contact clause in the first place.” he explained. “Right?”    
  
“R…” He stumbled over his words. “R- Ah.. Well, sir, I… I just think that…”    
  
Conner looked less than impressed. Mackey took a deep breath and forced himself to get the words out. “Well, sir, I just think that, uh, the children have the right to know about what’s going on at home, I… I would even go so far as to say Clyde  _ should  _ be allowed to attend his mother’s funeral..”    
  
“Is that so, Mackey.”    
  
Mackey choked down his uncertainty. “Er… That’s just my opinion… Mr. Conner, Sir.”    
  
“Agree to disagree.” he said, adding a diplomatic smile. Then, “But that’s not the only reason I’ve approached you, Mackey. Actually, I’m here for a favor.”    
  
“A favor?” his brows furrowed “From… From me, Sir?”    
  
“Right.” he said. “I’m going to need to access your files for a moment.”    
  
“My files?” concern was written all over his tone, in spite of the professionalism he tried to force. “For the students? Uh, I’d like to sir, but those are a bit… Confidential.”    
  
“Right.” Conner said, folding his hands neatly at his back. “And as far as the residents know, that information  _ is  _ confidential. But I don’t recall being a resident, nor signing any type of documentation that would prevent me from breaching my own contract. Unless you’re entirely opposed?”    
  
“N-” his heart skipped a beat. Any and all instincts to protest were smoothly squandered by his adamance. “No, sir. Right away.”    
  
He moved to his cabinet at a sullen pace, still not entirely comfortable with the task he’d been assigned. But nonetheless, he fished the key out of the drawer in his desk and unlocked each cabinet, one by one. Since he was only a counselor for Ward C, he thankfully did not need to manage documentations or notes for each one of the several hundred or more residents at the facility. But there were still a fair amount of files packed into each cabinet.    
  
The awkwardness was stifling, as he aimlessly rummaged through each file. Realizing quite dumbly that he actually had no clue what he was looking for, he glanced back at Conner and asked, “Uh, anyone… anyone specific, sir?”    
  
“Just one.” he assured. “I’d like to borrow Craig Tucker for a while, if you wouldn’t mind.”    
  
-   
  
They regrouped without issue, gathering inside the atrium with minimal concern for being caught, per the absence of staff. Furthermore, Token’s ability to reverse-engineer the rusty old lock was all the more helpful.    
  
Everybody was accounted for with the exception of Thomas, though Tweek realized now that he’d never actually  _ said  _ that he was in on the plan, and he couldn’t blame him. Though he was somewhat more reluctant to leave, knowing that a good friend would choose to stay behind.    
  
“Alright.” Token leaned in close, regarding Clyde with a look that reflected his determination. “We’ve got forty-five minutes. There are nine of us and one door. As long as nobody screws this up, we should be fine.”    
  
Stan bounced on his heels. “Yeah! Finally! Let’s get the fuck out of here!” 

 

Wendy regarded him curiously, but wound up rolling her eyes. The only person who seemed more excited than Stan was Clyde, though he looked more serious than ecstatic at the moment. 

 

“Let’s run through the plan again,” he said, ignoring the quiet groans. “In order to reach the door, we have to pass the reception desk. They should be in the middle of a shift-change right now, but Ms. Dik usually stops by Mr. Mackey’s office around this time anyway, so we should have a twenty minute interim before the other one takes over.”    
  


They nodded, a few of them thinking back to the several times that they’d swung by Mackey’s office during this hour, or merely passed Ms. Dik in the hall, headed in that direction. It stopped being a coincidence, eventually, when Bebe caught them sucking face in the faculty room and sent that picture to every single phone in the ward. Traumatic imagery aside, it was an auspicious chance and they weren’t going to waste a second of it.    
  
Five more minutes before Ms. Dik would pack herself up and head out; five more minutes to get everybody else on the same page. “She’ll engage the failsafe before she leaves the desk, which makes the barrier nearly  _ impossible  _ to penetrate. So we’re either going to have to fuse into the world’s most powerful battering ram, or count on a distraction.”

 

Kyle raised his hand. “I can do it. I’ll use my wind to knock some papers over, and scatter them before she can pick them up.”    
  
“Good plan.”    
  
Clyde gave him a customary thumbs up, then allowed Token to continue. “But that’ll only buy us some time. We’re going to need to resort to some drastic measures if we’re going to keep her attention away from the switch. And, uh… this  _ might  _ get a little… ugly.”    
  
“Ugly?” Wendy asked. “How so?” 

 

“What’s something that Ms. Dik is  _ really  _ passionate about.” 

 

They exchanged glances with one another, Craig being the exception, whom had only ever met the woman once, and had been so distracted by her insanely low… assets, that he hadn’t actually bothered to remember her name.    
  
“Uh… Mr. Mackey?” Kyle guessed.    
  
Uncomfortable as it was, Token commended him. “Right. If we were to stage a call from Mr. Mackey, there’s  _ no way  _ she wouldn’t answer-- The question is…” 

 

As if reading his thoughts, Wendy interjected quickly- “Done. One fake I-love-you from Mr. Mackey coming right up; just say When.”    
  
“Good. Jimmy, you’re in charge of making sure that everybody reaches the door before the failsafe is switched and Timmy, you’re on lookout.”    
  
“Timmy!” 

 

“Lastly--” he looked at Craig. “We’re going to need you to punch your way out. Think you can do it?” 

 

He nodded. 

 

Except Tweek couldn’t help but voice his concerns, “Ah, but… u-uh, will the hole be big enough for the rest of us?”    
  
Clyde couldn’t stifle his laughter, prompting Token to hit him.    
  
“It should be fine, Tweek. If not, we’re counting on Stan to make it bigger. Now- we’ve got…  _ two  _ minutes. Everyone ready?” 

 

They looked at one another. 

 

Kyle took a deep breath and expressed the sentiments that seemed to be weighing heavily on everybody’s minds. “...Ready as I’ll ever be.”    
  
-

 

The plan went about as expected, minimal flukes aside from a bit of semi-tardiness (the old woman was practically ready to go by the time Kyle arrived; far less time for an optimal distraction) but nothing to necessitate any drastic measures yet.    
  
The paper was sufficiently scattered across the hall, Ms. Dik shrieked at the sudden breeze and rushed to gather up what scattered of her belongings; mostly papers, some odd pen or so, a stapler. Thankfully, she was a heavy-set woman and not the kind that drew power from her size. Rather, she wheezed with the effort it took to get on her knees and shuffle around, cursing as another gust of wind blew the papers further away. “Gosh darn it! Is someone playing a prank on me?!”    
  
Kyle remained crouched in the shadow of a potted shrub and signaled to Wendy, who’d positioned herself on the opposite wall. Being thinner and smaller in stature, she had an easier time wedging herself in the crevice of an indentation between the wall and the corner-aisle that opened out into the waiting area.    
  
She was on her phone for all but two seconds before the phone in her bag rang and she rushed to dig it out, an exasperated breath escaping her lips as she recognized the ID. She took the call with as much dignity as she could mustered, being practically situated in the middle of the floor. “Mackey--? Mackey…”    
  
Ms. Dik hummed, then ended the call, huffing at the prospect of having been dialled by none other than the ass of Mackey himself. Kyle cringed as she returned to her work, but not all hope was lost- as another notification alerted her to a message, and she couldn’t help but read it.    
  
“Oh…  _ Oh _ .” she exclaimed, red in the face. Bunching the papers into her palms, she momentarily forgot her business and began sauntering off down the hall-- though, not without adjusting the wedgie in her skirt, first.    
  
Wendy was understandably sick to her stomach, but remained strong and sufficed to find a better hiding spot the minute the woman was out of site. Thankfully, the floor was vitrified- making for a pleasantly smooth slide that allowed her to gracefully dive out of sight before the woman turned her head, regarding the desk with immediate hesitation.    
  
Kyle prayed that she would just go away,  _ don’t notice. Don’t notice. Don’t notice!!  _

 

...and she did not seem to notice; neither the people in her plants nor the fact that her job was only half-done.    
  
With that, the desk lay finally abandoned and Wendy sent off the second signal- within a second’s notice, Jimmy was planting each of the remaining residents in the lobby, one-by-one, starting with Tweek (who happened to be the lightest) and ending with Timmy, who required a bit more effort.    
  
“Great!” Kyle said in a hushed tone. “We’re all here. Craig, bust the door open.”    
  
“Wait!” Stan said, “Nobody’s at the desk right now. There’s gotta be a way to open the door, right? If we find it, we can leave without making a scene.”    
  
They hesitated, Token considering the idea with the most reluctance.    
  
Kyle was equally uneasy, “That wasn’t part of the plan. We should just go now while we’re in the clear--”    
  
“Stan is right…” Wendy said, “Besides, the longer we spend arguing about it, the less time we have to actually find whatever commands the door. Who’s up to it?”    
  
They exchanged hesitant looks; Clyde, growing increasingly more impatient, had already jumped behind the desk by the time anyone had noticed that he’d moved.    
  
“Clyde!” Token chided in a hushed tone. “Do you even know how to  _ use  _ a computer?!”    
  
He shrugged, evidently confident in his ability to learn. “It can’t be that much different from video games.”   
  
“We’re screwed.” Craig lamented.    
  
Still, he was hard at work at the desk, doing his utmost to figure out which button did what- mute, volume up, volume down, various keys with symbols that he wasn’t familiar with, letters, etc… Nothing that said ‘Freedom’, surprisingly.    
  
“What’s the hold up?” Stan asked. They were all anxiously crouched by the door at that point, waiting impatiently.    
  
But Clyde was struggling, to say the least. Wendy opted to get behind the counter with him in order to help, but… “Woah.” she said. “This is… different?”    
  
First of all, the desktop was exceedingly crowded with various files dragged around every corner of the screen and haphazardly labeled ‘item 1’, ‘item 2’ and so on. There were only a few things that made any kind of sense, like some PDF documents entitled ‘Contract’, ‘Registration’ and so-on. Oddly enough, there was no trace of any prominently known browsers, no matter how many variations or obscure possibilities she searched for in the program files.    
  
She cursed, the clock beating down her neck as the minutes in the lower right-hand corner unrelentingly flickered.    
  
“Who cares,” Stan spat “Just hit the button and get out of there!”    
  
“I’m trying!” she insisted, searching on and around the desk intently for any kind of button. “I can’t even find the failsafe switch!”    
  
“Here.” Clyde gently pushed her aside, commandeering the computer while Wendy continued her search. “You keep looking, I’ll try to see if there’s anything here…”    
  
He resorted to the icons pinned to the taskbar, and selected the first one. The logo was a blank document, akin to the kind that appear on files that cannot be opened. Though initially wary of that possibility-- when he opened it…    
  
His breath caught in his chest.    
  
“G… Guys?”    
  
Wendy and Clyde were staring themselves in the face. Quite literally, in fact, as the webcam captured the dumbstruck looks on their faces quite vividly. At several different angles, in fact.    
  
Not only that, but they were subjected to the peripheral view of hundreds of different cameras depicting areas of the facility that they hadn’t even realized were  _ attached  _ to the ward… But more alarmingly--    
  
They had a front-row view to the interior of fifty dorms.    
  
Before Clyde could fully express the sense of dread the overcame him, an alarm sounded, and he cursed-- diving underneath the desk, alongside Wendy. But the rest were sitting ducks and Token could do little else but encourage Craig, “Now!”    
  
\--who quickly reeled his fist back. A peculiar hue of light absorbed his knuckles, then stretched around his forearm as he evidently ‘charged’ his attack--    
  
“Stop!” the security team was on them in an instant, bearing their weapons and closing in fast. Tweek was overcome with a sense of deja vu, but could do little else but focus on Craig-- who  _ obliterated  _ the door with his punch.    
  
He jumped out, Token, Stan and Kyle were quick to follow as the others struggled to call out to Wendy and Clyde, who remained hidden in the least convenient of places. Jimmy relented, “I’ll-- I’ll get them-” and sped off and back with Wendy in tow.    
  
Clyde rushed out before Jimmy could make his second round- 

 

Which proved to be a fatal mistake. 

 

A dart implanted itself in the back of his neck, his body falling limp to the floor. Though he maintained the ability to raise his head and shout, “Run!” he was showing no promise of getting up.    
  
Jimmy rushed to the rescue, but the guards had rescued him by then, and had stuck one in Jimmy as well, who’d let his guard down in his clumsy haste. He fell against his crutches and struggled to warn them, “G-G-Good… luck g..g...guys.”    
  
Tweek’s eyes widened in horror as Token reluctantly overstepped the barrier- Tweek was the only one who remained. He swallowed an aching breath, turned around, and--    
  
...saw moonlight.   
  
For the first time in what, a decade? It felt like  _ years _ . Yes, he’s seen the atrium. Yes, there were windows. But when was the last time he’d truly  _ felt  _ the light on his skin?   
  
He hadn’t realized how starved he was for its gentle embrace; for the wind to caress his skin until he pressed forward, mesmerized.    
  
\--That’s when it hit him.    
  
_ Agonized screams tore out of his throats. His head was aching, his body was on fire and he was in hell. Make it stop. Make it stop make it stop make it stop- I’m  _ **_sorry_ ** _. I won’t leave, I promise. I’m sorry. I’ll be good now. Just  _ **_stop_ ** _ - _ _   
_ _   
_ _ But the straps tightened around his arm again before he even had time to process what was happening, he was doused again with another 20 milliamps of electricity and -  _ _   
_ _   
_ “Tweek?” Craig paused, seizing Tweek’s hand. “We don’t have time for this-- Let’s  __ go .”    
  
“No, don’t touch me!” he screamed, reeling back into the outstretched arms of a guard, 

 

Before his vision faded entirely to black, the moon was forever out of reach, and the urgency in Craig’s voice drifted to silence.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point on, stuff. gets. real. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry about the delay; real life and stuff, gross. Disgusting. Glad I finally got this one out though. 
> 
> Song of the chapter: Hollow Moon (Bad Wolf) - Awolnation.


End file.
